Pinstripes and Mr Dimples
by The Dragoness 06
Summary: The Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness venture to a small rural community in the Southern United States, searching for a mysterious signal that should not exist. In pursuit, they find an impossible town, people who shouldn't exist, and unexpected dangers.
1. Introductions to Old Friends

**Author's note:** _this is a work of derivative fiction, used under the fair use clause of the creative commons. No copyright infringement is intended. Please be advised that this is a purely self-indulgent experiment in creative writing, used as an exercise to try to rehabilitate atrophied creative muscles, and does include the introduction of original characters. IMPORTANT NOTE: It is safe to consider this story an AU. The writing is a strong M due to language and innuendo, but there will be no smut or graphic violence that would push this story into teasing the M+ or MA rating. Just a strong M. (Feel free to say it with me, if you like.) Children of Earth does not happen in this universe. CoE will never happen in this particular universe. CoE was just an unpleasant nightmare brought on by too much spicy food and too little good coffee. All feedback is welcome - and I hope you will indulge me, and enjoy. Is it still considered a Mary Sue if your original characters are married to each other?_

**Pinstripes and Mr. Dimples**

(working title in progress)

The two men walked side by side down the sidewalk, seemingly oblivious to the people they passed along the way. One was tall and lanky, his brown hair fussed by the brisk breeze. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of the fawn overcoat he wore, the tails flapping behind him more from the force of his steps than from the wind. The sneakers paired so incongruously with the brown pinstriped suit he wore made almost no noise on the concrete.

His companion was of equal height, but stockier build, his arms folding the edges of his blue-gray wool coat more tightly around his bulkier form. His black hair was as equally disheveled, but he still managed to make it look artful instead of messy.

"I thought this was supposed to be the sunny south," the dark haired man grumped at his companion. "So far, not seein' so much sun."

His brown-themed companion made a tutting noise, without actually turning his attention to the man beside him. "Surely you aren't bothered by a little unseasonable weather, are you, Captain?" he asked. "It's just a bit bracing!"

Captain Jack Harkness turned a wry expression on his traveling companion. "Ordinarily in a situation like this, I'd have friction to keep me warm," he replied. His companion merely snorted.

The two men walked further in silence, the brown eyes of the slender man constantly scanning his surroundings. "So, Doctor," Jack began again, "Not that I've never wanted to visit North America - but why here? Why now? I mean, a century ago, we'd have had Southern Belles. Heck, even six months either way, and we'd have gotten sultry weather, and all the scantily clad exposed flesh that implies. But now?"

The Doctor huffed again. "The TARDIS picked up some rather unique and distinctive energy readings from this era - energy that should not exist at all, let alone be here." His handsome features twisted into an expression of bitter hatred, and Jack caught the tell-tale flash of something like rage and grief in his eyes. "If those things are here..."

Now Jack was really concerned. "What things?" he asked.

For his part, it was as though the Doctor hadn't heard him. He surreptitiously removed his sonic screw driver from his pocket, and flipped it on to take a quick reading. "They're stronger this way," he muttered, increasing his pace. Jack had no choice but to increase his speed and keep up, but the new pace was not particularly conducive to chatting.

The Doctor's loping jog quickly carried them out of the city limits, and into the rapidly-becoming- more-provincial outlying area. Jack wasn't even really sure where they were - other than late 20th - early 21st century Earth, in what was known at the time as the Southern United States. Whatever the Doctor was chasing, it had him so on edge that he'd even forsaken his normal travelogue-style prattling for a change.

As if suddenly remembering that his companion had asked a question, once they were out of sight of the populace of the small town and the Doctor was able to fully focus on the readings from the sonic screwdriver, he began answering Jack's previous question. "I have never been afraid of the truth, Jack, but there have been times when I haven't wanted to hear – or admit – it. This is one such time. The TARDIS has picked up traces of a radiation signature that is peculiar to only one known race in all of the universe – a race that I had dearly hoped was dead and gone, but that I keep finding over and over again.

"The TARDIS picked up signs of Dalek activity."

Jack felt the world fall away from beneath him even as his lungs froze. Daleks. Here. He hadn't faced them since the Gamestation – and that had turned out oh so well for everyone involved, now hadn't it? He didn't realize that he'd stopped moving until the Doctor's voice floated back to him.

"Evil isn't a title I bandy about casually, Jack" the Doctor said absently. Jack bounded forward the few steps necessary to catch up with the Time Lord, and keep pace. The pair had left civilization – such as it was – behind some 15 minutes earlier. Now their footsteps were echoed by the sound of brittle autumn leaves crunching. "I've found that most things in the universe are neither good nor evil; most creatures are simply trying to survive, either individually or as a species." The expression on the Doctor's face was a mixture of horror, grief and rage.

"However, I can't make that distinction in this case. You've had first-hand experience with these creatures, Jack. You know what they've cost me – and you. I can't think of anything more appropriate to call them. If anything in the universe deserves to be called 'evil', it's these metal monstrosities."

Jack felt again the gut wrenching pain of Satellite 5, and all the lonely years that followed. As he started to speak, though, something tapped him on the shoulder.

"You gents might wanna stop right there," a female voice said from just above Jack's head. He was already moving before the last word was finished, starting to spin and reach for his holstered blaster, but his actions were halted by one sharp, metallic poke to the side of his head.

"Don't," the mysterious woman said sharply. "Both of you turn around nice and slow, keep your hands visible. This doesn't have to end up with anybody getting hurt, but my husband is out there watching us. If he thinks you're a threat I can't handle, he won't hesitate to end you. Either of you."

Slowly raising his hands out from his pockets so it was obvious they were empty, Jack completed the turn, disgusted with himself that anyone had so easily gotten the drop on him. He found himself staring into the barrel of an old-fashioned slug throwing rifle – large caliber and lethal – and no one standing behind him. The Doctor bounced up beside him, and peered up into the tree above them.

"'Allo!" he exclaimed, smiling brightly. "Who are you? And why are you up there? I'm the Doctor, by the way."

Following his gaze, Jack found himself looking up at a dark-haired female, approximately late 30s, sitting on a low tree branch and holding what looked to be a .308 hunting rifle on him. She was dressed in a shirt and slacks of mottled browns and greens, which blended well with the coloring of the autumn leaves. Her eyes were bright brown, alert and intelligent, her face lightly tanned. She nodded politely to the Doctor's greeting, and shifted her focus back to Jack.

"And you would be?" she prompted.

Jack gave her his most charming smile. "I would be very pleased to get to know you better," he said, modulating his tones to be as suggestive and flirtatious as possible. "Captain Jack Harkness, at your service. Whatever service I can do."

The woman – apparently human – studied him for a few more seconds. "Ah-huh," she finally said, her voice positively dripping with disdain. "Sadly, I'll just bet that works for you quite a bit, doesn't it? No offense, Mr. Dimples," and she visually scanned him from head to toe, "but you're a little on the puny side for my tastes."

Jack could feel his mouth fall open in shock – he'd never been dismissed so off-hand before. It was the smothered, choking snort from beside him that snapped him out of his temporary paralysis. He whipped around to see the Doctor biting his lips closed to smother a noise that was making his entire body shake from suppressing it – but his eyes were obviously dancing with mirth. Jack scowled, and glared at him.

The look was too much for the Doctor. He erupted in peals of laughter. "Puny!" he laughed. "Perhaps I should throw you back!"

"Oh, shut it," Jack grumbled.

The woman watched the pair with a vague smile, until the Doctor was able to get his mirth under control. "I stopped you gentlemen because you are trespassing on private land. It'd be best if you went back to town," she told them.

"Trespassing? Trespassing! Nonsense!" the Doctor exclaimed. "We're just out for a nice stroll! Not hurting a thing! I'd hardly call that trespassing!"

The woman arched one eyebrow at him. "I dunno, Pinstripes," she mused. "'Round here, folks like to call that trespassing. You two just stroll your selves back to town and walk elsewhere. Bad stuff in these woods, and I'm of no mind to see nice folks caught up in these goings on."

The Doctor's veneer of joviality vanished. "Look . . . you know, you never introduced yourself," he said, surprised. "That seems a little impolite, don't you think?"

The woman grinned, and jiggled the rifle she was holding slightly. "Home field advantage. I can be a little impolite if I want to be. Now you two, scoot!" She gestured vaguely back towards town with the tip of the rifle.

"Miss, we can't," The Doctor said seriously. "You must understand – according to my readings, there are . . . things, creatures in these woods, that don't belong here. We've got to find them."

"You mean the Devil's Trashcans? They're about 200 yards further on, in Wilson's Holler." The rifle shifted to focus squarely on the Doctor's head, and Jack heard the distinctive sound of it being cocked, and tensed. As close as they were, he wasn't sure he'd be able to push the Doctor out of the way in time to take the bullet himself, but he was sure as hell going to try.

"They don't come from you, do they?" the woman's voice dropped to a threatening growl, and all good humor disappeared from her face. Suddenly, she looked very menacing.

"What!" the Doctor exclaimed. "No! I didn't even know they were here until my sensors picked them up! If your Devil's Trashcans, as you call them, are what I think they are, they are called Daleks, and I mean to destroy them!" The Doctor's eyes glowed with fanatical fervor.

At that pronouncement, she studied the two men intently. Seeming to come to some kind of internal decision, she raised the barrel of her rifle skyward, and uncocked it. "I-VAN!" she roared in a surprisingly booming voice, startling both the Doctor and Jack.

A male voice answered from some distance away in the woods. "WHAT! I didn't do it!"

A few seconds later, and it seemed as if part of the landscape loomed directly behind Jack, towering over him. Jack whipped around to peer up into wide-set eyes that glittered with intelligence, overhung by a mane of unkempt, shaggy black hair and perched above a well-shaped thick black beard. Jack had the impression of a button nose and unsmiling, full lips hidden within the shrubbery of hair. "Ivan?" he asked tentatively.

The man grunted in acknowledgment. The sharp eyes scanned Jack up and down once, quickly, then flicked over to the Doctor, but he offered no other comment. Jack plastered on his best smile, and thrust forward his hand. "Ivan! Pleased to meet you! I'm-"

"The man who was hitting on my wife," Ivan cut him off with a deep, throaty growl. "Without asking my permission first."

From beside him, Jack heard the distinctive twitter of the sonic screwdriver, and snapped his gaze to the side to glare at the Doctor, who was just withdrawing the instrument from having scanned the new arrival. Jack didn't miss the big man's eyes cut over to the Doctor, either, but that was the only movement from the big man.

"What are you doing?" Jack hissed. The Doctor was frowning at the readings on the device in his hands.

"I was curious," the Doctor said. "He's fully human." His voice was tinged with awe and disbelief, and Jack clapped one hand over his eyes.

"The man already wants to eat me, and not in a fun-filled Sunday afternoon kind of way, I might add. Would you quit looking for buttons to press?" He turned a wobbly smile back to the looming Ivan, and his gaze finally focused on the weapon held casually in the big man's arms. It reminded Jack strongly of the 8mm Mausers that were carried in World War I and II – but there was something out of place. It took him a few seconds to realize the gun had been modified somewhat to hold a multi-round clip. It looked like an oversized pistol in Ivan's hands, but the carefully mounted scope made it quite evident the gun was good for range.

"Hey, Dimples!" the woman called. "Catch!" Jack turned back to Ivan's wife in time to catch the .308 she tossed down to him. Jack only had a few seconds to goggle at the fact that she had just surrendered her weapon to him before she dropped to the leaf-covered ground from the tree branch, and was swept into a one-armed embrace by the looming Ivan.

The big man's hand spanned the entirety of his wife's lower back as he pulled her close and planted a smacking kiss on her smiling lips. Her feet completely left the ground as he squeezed her tight, and she looked almost childlike in size in the looming man's arms. As her feet touched earth once more, she spun smiling back to Jack and plucked the rifle from his unresisting hands. She extended one of her own for him to shake. "Call me Tamara," she said.

It wasn't until their hands clasped that Jack realized he actually had to look up slightly to meet Tamara' eyes – she was at least the same height as he, if not an inch or two taller, and proportionately larger to fit her height. Broad shouldered, full of hip and breast, she was by no means fat, but neither was she a small woman. Jack could feel his eyebrows inching higher as he realized just how massive her husband Ivan was.

Tamara turned to the Doctor and extended her hand to him as well. "Pinstripes, I think you and Mr. Dimples here need to come back to town with us, and tell us some stories," she stated.

"I'd love nothing better, Tamara," the Doctor began, "but the Daleks-"

"Aren't going anywhere yet," she cut him off. With her free hand, she physically turned the Doctor back towards town, and began gently but firmly propelling him in the direction she wanted them to go. Jack followed quickly, mostly because the silent presence of Ivan pushing inexorably closer left him no other choice.

"How do you know what they're doing?" the Doctor demanded, irritated. He couldn't resist being moved any more than Jack could, but nothing said he had to go quietly.

Tamara walked beside him, her long legs easily matching the Doctor's strides. Jack fell slightly back and to the other side, keeping the pair of them in view with Ivan at his back. "These death machines you call Daleks turned up here . . . oh, I guess about ten days ago. First we knew of 'em was when the Bronson brothers didn't come home from a hunting trip. We found what was left of 'em, shot up pretty bad, and that led us back to the whole nest of those damn things." She scuffed her feet through the detritus of the forest floor, kicking small piles of leaves out in front of them as they walked.

Jack was only half-listening. He knew the Doctor would go over the details of her account later, and when he was ready, Jack would be able to pull the half-heard conversation out of his memory. The majority of his attention was focused on the surrounding woods. Daleks were here somewhere – which meant they could show up any second, and he didn't have a weapon close to hand that would easily overcome a Dalek's defenses. His mind automatically cataloged and filtered out non-threatening noises so he could focus on the environment – he no longer registered his own footsteps, and easily eliminated the Doctor's and Tamara's crunching steps as well. It was a few seconds before he realized one noise was missing.

Jack froze and whirled around, to find the trail empty. "Wait!" he exclaimed quietly. The other two stopped moving and turned to him curiously. "Where's Ivan?"

Tamara looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean, 'Where's Ivan'?" she asked. "He's right there!" she gestured off to the right of the path.

Jack looked where she was pointing, and saw only undergrowth, shrubbery, and trees. "Where?" he demanded. "I don't see him!"

Tamara sighed, and planted her hands on her hips. "Ivan, wave at Mr. Dimples please."

Twenty feet away, a small sapling began to shake violently, and Jack's eyes snapped to it. As he focused, he was finally able to pick out the massive shape of Ivan, shoulders draped in a motley gilly suit. His rifle was in his left hand, his right fist was clutched around a three-inch thick sapling, shaking it, scowling at the trio on the path. Now that he was focused on him, Jack couldn't believe he couldn't see him before.

With a heavy sigh, Ivan began moving again, and faded into the woods. "How does he do that?" Jack marveled, moving up to the other two.

Ivan's grumbling voice drifted back to them. "Come forth into the light of things, Let nature be your teacher. William Wordsworth."

Tamara shrugged, and gazed after her husband. "He grew up in these woods – been out here since he was a toddler. What can I say? He's probably learned more about the world in general being out here than he ever did in school. The man's at home in the woods." Every ten feet or so, a sapling would shake violently – obviously an intentional gesture.

"That's just not natural," Jack muttered. "No one should be able to move that silently." He turned towards the Doctor. "And you're sure he's human?"

The Doctor rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. "Yep!" he said, popping the 'P' sound loudly. "According to my scan – fully human."

Ivan's voice drifted back to them. "HA! Tolja!" he shouted back.

"He's wrong!" Tamara shouted after her husband. She snorted in humor and began moving toward town again. "There'll be no living with him now," she grumbled. "I've been telling him for years he wasn't completely human."

Daleks momentarily forgotten, the other two trailed along with her. Confused, the Doctor looked from Tamara to where Ivan had disappeared. "So what do you say he is?" he finally asked.

She grinned, eyes full of mischief. "Changeling," she said simply. "One of the fey."

Jack blinked in confusion. "A what?"

"How familiar are you with fairy tales?" Tamara asked. "Legend has it that if the elves see a mortal baby with which they become enamored, they will attempt to steal the infant away and replace it with a changeling creature in trade, something to hide the fact that that the mortal baby was taken. It's why mothers are never supposed to leave their newborns unattended, for fear the elves will see their infant and fall in love with him, and steal him away."

"That's a myth, a fairy tale as old as humanity almost," the Doctor pointed out. "What has that got to do with your husband?"

"It's a long story his mother told me, when we first started dating. He was only a few days old – maybe 10 days, at most – and she put him down for his nap long enough for her to leave the room to grab his bottle and her book, and come back. In the sixty seconds she was out of sight, baby Ivan had moved four feet across the room – blanket, pillows, baby and all – and he was still sound asleep. She was never able to explain what happened, or how he moved, so I said that she had interrupted the baby swap in progress before the changeling could be put back in place. Her baby is off living the high life with the elves, and she raised a creature of fey in his place. Needless to say, I've been teasing him about it for years – telling people that's why he's so big, because he's actually one of the fey folk. That's right, boys and girls, I'm married to an 8-foot tall fairy!" Tamara exclaimed.

Jack just started laughing.

* * *

><p>Within a few minutes, the trio emerged from the shaded confines of the forest to find Ivan waiting for them. He was seated on a fallen log, his feet braced wide apart and elbows on his knees, and Jack finally got a good look at the big man.<p>

The gilly suit had been folded neatly and laid beside Ivan on the ground. He was wearing black biker-style boots that stopped just below his knees, black denim slacks that seemed to be covered in pockets that held a wide variety of small tools, chains, and . . . stuff, for lack of a more accurate description, and a simple black t-shirt. Over the shirt, he wore a loose black canvas vest with yet more over-filled pockets.

There was a large, flat piece of metal laid across his knees, and as Ivan gripped one end in his left fist, he stroked an oblong-shaped stone along one edge. Jack felt his eyebrows crawl towards his hairline as he realized the big man was sharpening a long, wedge-shaped sword. Ivan was smirking at his wife as the trio stepped clear of the shadow of the trees.

Tamara stuck her tongue out at him. "Not buying it," she sing-songed, pointing at him. "Not human!"

Ivan stuck his tongue out at her. "Sore loser," he muttered. Tamara shook her head sadly.

"Put that away, Changeling Boy," she told him. "I thought we'd take these boys to the diner."

Ivan grumbled, and stashed his whet stone in one of his many pockets. He stood, brandished the sword back and forth a few times, making it whistle through the air, then brought it to his side. He jabbed the tip into a short leather cup, leaned it forward into a long leather strap that cradled and covered the sharp edge, and snapped a leather strap around the grip to hold it in place. The flat metal of the remaining exposed blade gleamed dully against the rest of Ivan's monochromatic ensemble.

Jack felt his eyebrows climbing once more. "And you just walk around town with that thing on your hip?" he exclaimed. "You could cut a Volkswagen in half with that thing!"

Ivan grunted in response, and started walking towards town. He left the gilly suit behind. Jack turned to Tamara questioningly.

"Pay him no mind," she said, moving to follow her husband. "Ivan never has been a man of many words." The trio fell in step once more, trailing behind the giant in question.

"To answer your question – of course he's going to walk around with it. He can't very well leave it behind, can he? Besides, like I said, Ivan grew up here – everybody knows him, and everybody knows he wouldn't hurt 'em. Not so long as they don't provoke him, anyway."

"Uh-huh," Jack muttered, eying the broad back they were following. "So what would provoke him?"

Tamara shrugged. "Not a whole lot, really. Being cruel to an animal, especially where he can see it, abusing a child, pointless vandalism, hurting my feelings, flirting with him without permission, flirting with me without permission, stuff like that."

Jack swallowed heavily. He didn't know if he would come back from being cut in half, and he had no desire to find out.

The entire walk back, the Doctor was uncharacteristically quiet, hands thrust into his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face. Jack fell back to walk in step with him, a pace or two behind Tamara. "You hanging in there, Doc?" he asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "I'm fine, Jack," he answered. "Just a bit concerned. The Daleks could be doing anything out there, and here we are, being escorted to the diner. We've got to find a way to get away from these two, and get out there to stop them, Jack!"

Jack studied his friend for a few seconds in silence. "Fine, right," he repeated. "That's why you let me get away with calling you 'Doc'," he pointed out. "Just calm down, Doctor. Let's hear their story of where those things came from, then we'll figure out a way to stop 'em. We can't do anything right now, so there's no point in worrying."

Around them, their environment changed quietly from the path through scrubs and fields to the outskirts of town to concrete sidewalks and small shop fronts.

"But how much time do we have?" the Doctor mused, gaze distant and vacant. "What are they planning, and when will they move?"

Tamara stopped suddenly in front of a set of double glass doors, and looked back at the pair. "Don't sweat it, Pinstripes. You've got at least another 36 hours, maybe as long as 48, before the Devil's Trashcans finish whatever it is they're doing," she told him. He was a bit taken aback that she had overheard the conversation; he'd thought he and Jack were keeping their voices down pretty well. She grinned at him, and pulled one of the doors open. "Plenty of time for lunch," she said.

Jack glanced at the name on the door, and came to a screeching halt, almost causing the Doctor to plow into his back, and roared with laughter. "This sounds like my kinda place!" he finally gasped.

The Doctor looked at the door in confusion, then rolled his eyes. The diner was called 'Tube Steak Alley.'

Tamara shrugged, smirking. "What can I say? This place has been here since dirt was invented, and they make the best hotdogs in the county. Aside from that, I get a giggle out of the name as well." She ushered them into the diner, and let the door swing shut behind her.

* * *

><p>The Tube Steak was long and narrow, the left side of the room dominated by an old-fashioned soda shop style bar complete with pull-handle fountain drink dispensers and glass jars of brightly colored candy. The right side was filled with red-vinyl covered bench seats and small four-person tables patterned with black and white checks. The floor was red, white and black linoleum, spotlessly clean, and the entire place was brightly lit by overhead fluorescent bulbs. The trio spotted Ivan taking up most of the bench in the last booth in the diner, against the back wall. It was one of only two booths that seated more than four people, and with the big man's massive bulk, looked like it might just have enough room for the three of them joining him. Making their way to the back of the room, Jack noticed that the few people seated in the diner never broke off their conversations, but invariably watched him and the Doctor go by with suspicious eyes. No one cast a second look at the tall woman with the big gun slung over her shoulder.<p>

Tamara propped her rifle next to the table, beside Ivan's, and gestured for the Doctor and Jack to slide into the booth. The Doctor slid in and around next to Ivan, then Jack, and Tamara perched on the edge of the bench. Within seconds, a pretty young waitress bounced up to the table. "Hey, guys!" she chirped, smiling at Ivan and Tamara, offering a hesitant smile to Jack and the Doctor. "You two want the usual?"

Ivan grunted, and Tamara smiled back. "Hey, Suz," she said. "Yeah, that'd be great. Would you gentlemen care for anything?" she asked her reluctant guests.

Jack turned a mega-watt smile on the waitress. "You mean in addition to an introduction to this beautiful woman?" he asked. "How about some coffee?"

Suz, as Tamara called her, blushed and smiled shyly, averting her gaze as she giggled. Ivan growled, and leveled a murderous gaze at Jack.

"Down, Romeo," Tamara chided. "Suz's dad owns the diner. Suz, what would your dad do if he saw Mr. Dimples here flirting with you?"

Suzie grimaced, and huffed a puff of air towards her bangs. "He'd probably beat his head in," she said with a sigh.

"And why is that, sweetie?" Tamara prompted.

This time, Suzie rolled her eyes in accompaniment to the huffed sigh. "'Cause I'm only 15," she admitted.

Jack blanched, his mouth falling open in shock, and promptly snapped it closed. He smiled ruefully at the girl and shook his head. "It's enough to break an old man's heart," he sighed. "I guess I'll save it for when you're 30."

Suzie laughed. "Daddy might be ready to let me date by then," she agreed cheerfully. "So one coffee. And you, sir?" she asked the Doctor.

"Tea, please," he answered, smirking at Jack.

"Sweetened or unsweetened?" Suzie asked.

The Doctor looked at her in confusion. "You pre-sweeten the tea?" he asked.

Tamara leaned forward. "Ah, Pinstripes?" she interrupted. "You do realize you're in the South, right?"

The Doctor's confusion only deepened. "Yes, of course," he replied. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"'Round these parts, tea is only served two ways - iced sweet, or iced unsweet," Tamara elaborated.

"But… but… that's criminal!" The Doctor looked horrified.

Ivan snorted. "What did you expect from a bunch of crazy monkeys that thought it was a good idea to throw tea in the harbor?" he growled. His bright eyes cut over to Suzie. "The usual, with an extra cup."

Suzie smiled brightly at him. "'Kay! Be right back!" and with that, she bounced away.

"Ice! In your tea!" the Doctor looked vaguely stunned. "Barbaric! I mean, really! It's just…"

Jack started laughing. "Oh, calm down, Doc," he chided. "You might like it, if you give it a try! Just look at iced coffee!"

The Doctor's mouth snapped shut with an audible click, then he turned a glare on Jack. "So I suppose the next time we're at Gavy's, I should order a hyper vodka and soda, hmmm?"

Jack stopped laughing and glared back. "now that… that suggestion is criminal. That's just plain alcohol abuse!"

Swallowing a smile, Tamara tapped on the table, interrupting the discussion. "As entertaining as you two are," she said, "I think we have more important things to discuss. Now, what are those things, and what do you know about 'em?"

The Doctor laced his fingers together, and leaned his hands on the table. "Those things, as I said, are called Daleks. They are the most efficient killing machines every known in the universe, and have been at war with my people for… oh, millennia. Every time I think they're gone, they just turn up somewhere else." The Doctor's expression turned bleak and distant. "They've taken everything from me. Everything. I'll never be rid of them."

Jack covered the Doctor's clenched hands with one of his own. "We'll get 'em, Doctor," he said intently. "I don't care if we have to hunt 'em down one by one through every century of recorded history. We'll make them pay for what they've taken, from both of us."

The Doctor turned despairing eyes up to Jack. "I'm tired, Jack," he said quietly. "I don't know how much longer I can keep fighting these things."

"Don't have to," Ivan rumbled. "Not this pack, anyway. The Trashcans have killed two of our boys. We'll settle with this lot."

The Doctor leaned back, seeming to snap back into awareness of his surroundings. "No," he said firmly. "Too many innocent people have died trying to do my job. No more. If you two will let me go about my business, I'll take care of this myself."

Conversation stopped as Suzie returned to the table with a laden tray. "Okay!" she chirped, balancing the tray on the edge of the table. "We got one coffee, one Sundrop, one pot a water and two cups, two burgers, and one extra-large chilli cheese fries. You folks need anything else?"

Ivan's eyebrows wiggled. "Honey?"

Suzie smirked. "Sweetie?" she retorted. The teenager laughed. "Of course I didn't forget your honey, I!" she exclaimed. She pulled a small glass mason jar out of her pocket and added it to the table. With a cheery wave, she bounced away to wait on another table.

Jack and the Doctor eyed the pot in front of Ivan. "Water?" the Doctor finally asked.

Ivan grunted - which seemed to be his most common form of communication - and reached into one of the capacious pockets on his cargo pants. He produced a small tin that when opened released a sweet, fragrant aroma that had the Doctor's eyes closing in appreciation as he inhaled.

Ivan pulled two tea bags out of the tin, snapped the tin closed, and dropped the bags into the pot of steaming water. "What is that?" the Doctor cried in delight.

"Seven Sisters Silver Pearl," Ivan growled, vanishing the tin back into his multiple pockets. "I like it."

Tamara snorted a very unladylike sound. "Tea snob," she scoffed. "Help yourself to fries, by the way," she offered, picking up her cheeseburger.

The Doctor sniffed appreciatively at the aroma drifting up from the tin pot on the gentle curls of steam, and smiled happily. "I must admit, I wouldn't have expected to find someone with such sophisticated tastes in this part of the world," he finally said.

"We aren't all complete savages," Tamara chided. "Just most of us. Big man, here, developed a taste for hot tea while traveling in Europe awhile back. I've been trying to break him of it ever since then, but… well, there's only so much influence a wife can have."

Ivan snorted derisively. "No influence? Woman, I at least drink it out of a cup now."

Jack laughed, and snitched a fry off the plate. "He's got you there," he said. "A good woman has more influence on a man than she realizes, and I have to say, I get the feeling you are a very good woman."

Tamara smiled at him, picking up her glass of ice-filled, bright yellow liquid. "I guess we have rubbed off on each other over the years," she agreed with a smirk, taking a sip of the fizzing drink. "Still can't get him to drink Sundrop, though."

"Vile concoction," Ivan muttered. He wolfed down his burger in a few bites, then checked the teapot. "Weak or strong?" he asked.

"Oh, definitely strong today," the Doctor replied. "With Daleks around, I'll need it as strong as I can get it." Ivan gave one sharp nod of acknowledgment, and settled back in his seat.

"So what can you tell us about those things?" Tamara asked. "Our boys have made some observations, but we don't know if they have relevant conclusions, or just idle speculations, and we won't know until we actually engage these things."

"Our knowledge is a little island in a great ocean of no knowledge," Ivan contributed.

"Isaac Singer," the Doctor interjected absently. "I'm not sure how much of what I can tell you you'll be willing to believe; without actually seeing your information, or the Daleks themselves for that matter, I simply don't know."

"Well, that's one of the things we're going to take care of as soon as we're finished with lunch. I figure you'll do better talking to our resident egg head than any of us have been able to do – he just tells us what he's found so far, tells us what works, and we believe him. I'm hoping you'll have a better chance at understanding what he's saying." Tamara told him. She and Jack were steadily working their way through the plate of fries; Jack could almost feel his arteries hardening.

Ivan lifted the teapot and swirled it once, then poured out into the two waiting cups. Opening the small mason jar, he spooned some of the thick, golden honey into his cup, then slid the jar over to the Doctor, who repeated the process. After taking a tentative sip, the Doctor closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. "Now that, that is quality," he sighed.

Ivan couldn't suppress a small smile, and grunted his acknowledgment. "Honey comes from my own hives," he said. "Keep a small supply here for my tea when I stop in."

The Doctor did seem calmer and more focused after his tea, but he was still just as intent when he leaned forward. "No offense, and while I would be happy to hear what your scientist friend has to say on the subject, but I really don't think he's up to the standards of handling anything as advanced as the Daleks. You said they'd arrived approximately ten days ago? Why don't you tell me what you've learned so far? How did you find them?"

Tamara settled back against the bench seat, cradling her condensation-covered glass in her hands. Her eyes focused on the rattling ice cubs floating in the drink. "Like I said, it was the Bronson brothers that found them, the hard way. When they didn't come in for supper, a few of us went out looking for them – thought maybe one of them had got hurt, and the other was waiting with him until we came looking. We found their bodies, and started tracking back from there. Ivan found the nest of those things, and since they weren't ever seen around these parts before, we figure they had to be what killed those boys."

"Been a long time since we had a murder 'round these parts," Ivan growled. "Folks didn't take it well. We don't get strangers through here very often, so everybody knows everybody. Took us a lot of talkin' t' make sure folks didn't rush into anything too quick."

"Well, at least you did that right," the Doctor grumbled, sipping at his tea. "Regardless of how . . . good you think your people are, none of you are ready to face the Daleks."

"Oh, don't worry so much, Pinstripes. We've seen some interesting times around here. You'd be surprised what we're capable of handling." She shoved a bundle of fries into her mouth, and washed them down with the last of her soda. "You 'bout ready to go?"

Ivan grunted assent, and drained his cup, then slid his bulk out of the booth and collected his rifle. He headed for the register, and pulled a leather wallet out of another of his many pockets. Tamara slid out to follow, grabbed her rifle, and beckoned for the other two to follow. Jack gulped down the last of his coffee and snatched up a few last fries, and slid out of the booth.

The Doctor sighed in frustration; why couldn't he seem to make these primitive apes understand exactly how much danger they were in? He finished the last of his tea - it really was a bit of unexpected ambrosia - and quickly followed the other three out of the diner. Suzie gave him a cheerful wave as he passed. "Have a good day! Come again - and bring your friend, too!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes heavenward. Only Jack.

* * *

><p>After their quick lunch, Ivan and Tamara ushered Jack and the Doctor out of the diner and down the street. "Like I said," Tamara continued, "we know basically what your Daleks are doing, even if we don't know specifically what they're after. We've got some clever folks here in town, and they've been working non-stop to come up with some nifty little tricks for them Trashcans."<p>

The towering pair led the two slighter men down the street as they chatted, strolling down the sidewalk of the small town. Jack surveyed the area as they walked, taking in the details of the town around them. He had to remind himself that they really were in the early 21st century; he'd double-checked his vortex manipulator. The town looked as though it were frozen in time, stuck somewhere in the early to mid 20th century. Jack really wouldn't have been surprised to see children rolling hoops up the sidewalk, or greasers in leather jackets tool by in a car with tail fins.

"Just what kind of tricks do you have up your sleeves?" the Doctor demanded. "You have yet to tell me anything that indicates you have any awareness at all of exactly how terribly dangerous these creatures are."

"Chewing up two of our native sons into hamburger wasn't a good enough clue?" Tamara exclaimed. "I think we've got a pretty good idea that these suckers are bad news.

As she spoke, Ivan opened another pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a framework that held five oddly-colored bullets. "Local chemistry boys made these up," he grumbled. "Oughta be real pretty."

The Doctor squinted at the unusual bullets, until Jack plucked the small objects from his fingers. Jack proceeded to hold the bullet's up to the light and appraise them as though they were fine jewels.

"Unusual weight ratio on these - hand loaded, I assume?" he asked, but didn't pause for an answer. "I would almost expect them to be hollow points, based on the shape and weight - but each of these has been capped." Jack hefted the weight in the palm of his hand, and looked at Ivan curiously. "So what's so special about them?"

The Doctor glared at Jack, and snatched the bullets away from him. Still glaring, he produced his sonic screwdriver and scanned the object in his hand. With a startled blink, he scanned them a second time, his eyebrows climbing higher. Holding the clip between his thumb and index finger as though they were tainted, he thrust them at Ivan with an incredulous expression in his face. "What were you people thinking?" he exclaimed. "Are you stupid apes completely insane? Where did you even get those things?"

Ivan collected the clip from the doctor with an evil chuckle. "Smart chemist," he said. "Looking forward to trying them out."

Jack looked from the giant human to the slender Time Lord in confusion. "What? What am I missing?"

The Doctor pointed at Ivan in indignation. "Chemical bullets!" he exclaimed. "They've made two-part chemical bullets! You fire one of those things, and it will create a small chemical plasma charge!" The Doctor seemed almost outraged, and Ivan chuckled again.

"Works real good on those scraps we've been able to retrieve," he chortled. "Can't wait to see 'em on the real thing."

Jack's eyes took on an avaricious gleam. "Plasma charge? Really? Got any extras?"

"No!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Rassilon! I thought Ace was bad enough with her little pet projects! The last thing we need is you, with a portable plasma round!"

Tamara laughed, and began leading the small group down the sidewalk once more. "Don't worry about it, Pinstripes," she said. "They've only been able to make the 10 rounds so far. We've got some other fun stuff planned, though."

The quartet walked up on a group of five old men seated in a grouping of rocking chairs that were arranged in front of what appeared to be a small general store. All five men bore similar wizened appearances, bodies shrunken and wrinkled with age. Tamara smiled brightly at them as they approached. "Hey guys!" she exclaimed. "How are you boys today?"

Almost as if it were choreographed, the five pairs of alert, intelligent eyes swiveled to rake over the two strangers before focusing collectively on Tamara again. "Heard you had company," one of the old men grumbled. "They ain't family a yorn, is they?"

Tamara laughed. "No, Bobby Todd, they aren't." She gestured at the men with her. "This here is the Doctor, and his friend, Jack Harkness."

"Captain Jack Harkness," Jack automatically corrected, extending his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Captain, huh?" one of the other men sneered. "Sounds t' me like your one a them damn Yankees." He leveled a glittering, suspicious eye on Jack.

One of the other old men swatted at his shoulder. "Leave off, Everett!" he scolded. He turned to Jack with a smile that bordered on smirk. "Everett hain't been no kinda fond a strangers since the War o' Northern Aggression," he explained.

Everett snorted, and glared at the one who had swatted him. "Whippersnapper," he muttered. "You'd be a hatin' them damn Yankees too, you seed what they commenced t' get up to 'round here, 'stead a gallivanting' off with 'em like you done," he grumbled.

The second old man rolled his eyes at Everett. "You hain't never gonna forgive me, is ya?" he sighed. "I done tol' you-"

"An' I done tol' you, Emmett Cobb, I don't give two hoots what you done tol' me," Everett snapped, cutting off what the other man was saying. "Ya ran off when them damn Yankees was cutting' up 'round here, and ya left me and Elias t' take care a Ma. You didn't see-"

"But that don't mean I don't care," Emmett interrupted right back. "Just means you need t' let it go."

Everett's face began to turn an unhealthy shade of red. Jack blinked at the exchange, and cast a sidelong look at the Doctor. For his part, the Doctor shrugged silently.

"Good Book has a might t' say on lovin' yer brother," the fifth old man finally spoke for the first time, his voice deep and slow. He was dressed the same as he others, off-white linen shirt and dungarees, but he had a double-barreled shotgun tucked in next to his right leg and a tin metal bucket sitting to the left of his chair with what looked to be a dog-eared Bible stuck in it.

"Shut up, Weasel," Everett snapped. The old man who had just spoken glared at him.

"Zeke the Weasel will preach yer ear off given half a chance," Emmett said to the four observers in a smirking aside.

"My name is Ezekiel," he growled back.

"You just keep tellin' yerself that, Zeke," Emmett chuckled.

"Well, fellas," Tamara cut them off before the two old men could go on any more, "we've gotta mosey. Gonna catch Mr. Wizard before he leaves today, let him tell these two about the Devil's Trashcans."

Everett and Emmett Cobb turned back to the four younger people, Everett glaring while Emmett grinned. "Tell that Voodoo Savage I said hello," Emmett replied. "Gimme that damn jug you hidin', Ev."

Muttering incomprehensibly, Everett reached down and behind his chair, and pulled out a universally recognizable brown glazed pottery jug, passing it to his brother. As Emmett pulled the cork and downed a swallow, Bobby Todd reached out for the jug and Tamara, Ivan, the Doctor and Jack began walking away.

As the four walked away from the group of old men, who continued to argue and pass the stoneware jug back and forth, Jack looked back over his shoulder to watch. "Did, uh… did that guy mean what I think he meant?" he finally asked.

"You mean Everett? Oh, yeah - he really doesn't like Yankees. Or anything that came from the North, anyone that might be from the North, or anyone he thinks look Northern. Took him years to quit calling me Yankee camp follower - and I sound Southern!" Tamara explained.

"But he talks as though he were there when it happened!" Jack clarified. "I know he's old - but he can't be that old!"

Tamara shrugged as they kept walking. "Who knows? Far as anyone can tell, Everett remembers the Civil War. Ask anyone in town, they'll tell you the same thing - Everett Cobb is the oldest man in these parts, and as far as anyone can tell, he's been here almost longer than the town was. And he's always been a little old grumpy man. What can I say? People around these parts are healthy, and live good, long lives."

"Long lives is one thing - heck, I've lived a long life!" Jack exclaimed. "But if he actually remembers the Civil War that would make him… what… pushing 200?"

Tamara considered his statement for a bit, then nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right," she said. "Those five were crotchety old men when Ivan was a toddler."

"Yeah, but to a toddler, a 40 year old man would look like a little old man," Jack pointed out.

"Nope," Ivan interjected in his deep rumble. "He looks today exactly like he did then, right down to the same clothes and the same stinking cigars he still smokes every Saturday. Damn things smell worse than that shit the Krauts used to pump into the trenches in the war." Ivan frowned, and muttered a disapproving grumble.

Jack gave the tall man an incredulous look. "How would you know what that smelled like?"

Ivan gave Jack the kind of look that one reserved for people who are particularly slow. "Because I was there." The 'nitwit' at the end of his terse statement was implied by his tone of voice.

Both Jack and the Doctor came to an abrupt halt. "Impossible," the Doctor stated. "You can't be over… 38?"

Tamara barked out a laugh, and Ivan smirked. "Aren't you a sweetheart!" Tamara exclaimed. "Pinstripes, if you think he's 38, how old do you take me for?"

The Doctor and Jack both studied her, then looked at each other. Jack shrugged. "I'd have said 29," Jack offered.

The Doctor shook his head. "No, 32. Must be."

Tamara laughed heartily, eyes crinkling with mirth as she pointed at Ivan. "Told you, you're a cradle robber!" she howled. Ivan shook his head.

"She'll be insufferable now," he grumbled. "She loves it when people guess low."

"So how far off were we?" Jack asked as they started walking again. The couple seemed to have a destination in mind, even if the time traveling duo were clueless as to where they were going.

"I'll be 83 my next birthday," Tamara said with a wink. "And even keeping that in mind, Ivan is still a cradle robber."

It was the Doctor's turn to come to a halt. The two moved on a few paces before realizing he wasn't following. "Hang on - that's simply not possible!" he exclaimed. "Humans in this era of history simply don't live that long!"

Tamara shrugged. "Nevertheless, it's true. We live at a slower pace 'round here," she said, as they started moving again. "No cable, no cell phones, no cell towers for that matter, no high power lines, no shopping malls, no hurry. No stress. We all like it simple 'round here. People get born, grow up, move away, come back, and keep on living."

"So you're saying this is a town of immortals?" the Doctor scoffed.

"Hardly. People grow old, and people die, just like they're supposed to. It just takes longer - unless they have an accident," she said.

"Or they run into somethin' like your Daleks," Ivan muttered.

His terse words brought a momentary silence to the small party as they were all reminded of exactly why they were here.

After a few seconds, Jack cleared his throat. "So you were in World War I? You came over with the rest of the Army in the end?"

"Nope," Ivan said. "Ran away from home when I was 14, made my way up to Canada. Joined there when the war started, made it all the way through. I was big for my age - nobody even suspected I was only 15. Woulda gone back for II, but by then I was too tall and they wouldn't take me."

"Good thing, too," Tamara interjected, brows pulled down in a scowl. "I didn't want you playing around over there anyway."

"Playing?" Jack scoffed. "I was in World War I and II - I'd hardly call that playing!"

At Jack's words, Ivan whirled to face the other man so quickly, Jack took an involuntary step backwards. Ivan's dark eyes narrowed, studying the young-looking Captain, then scanned him from head to toe.

Ivan made a speculative sound deep in his throat, then started walking again - but in a different direction.

"Ivan! I thought we were heading for the school!" Tamara exclaimed. "Where are you going!"

"Home!" he called back. "Gotta look somethin' up." He continued striding purposefully on. "You comin', or what?" he called back.

Tamara threw her hands up in the air, and hurried after her husband. "Well, come on, you two. He won't be happy until he finds whatever it is he's looking for." She took off after her husband, trusting the remaining pair to keep up.

Jack and the Doctor trailed after the couple, but fell back a good distance so they could speak privately.

"Doc, what the heck is going on around here?" Jack hissed. "There is no way they can be fully human, and be… Ivan alone is over 100, if what he says is true. How is that even possible in this century?"

The Doctor was fiddling with his sonic screwdriver as they walked, taking a slow scan of the area. "It's got to be this unusual reading the TARDIS picked up right before we landed," he mused. "I assumed it was caused by the Daleks - some sort of temporal distortion, caused by them falling through time to land here. Now I'm beginning to suspect that the distortion was always here - and drew the Daleks to it."

"So you're saying there's actually something here that slows time for all these people, and prolongs their life?" Jack's mind boggled at the thought. The Fountain of Life that so many people had looked for - and here it was, in the middle of nowhere, in the rural Southern United States. "That's incredible!"

"That's wrong, Jack," the Doctor corrected emphatically. "If there's something distorting time around here, it could be very dangerous. If the Daleks have discovered it, other beings will too, and these people will be in grave danger."

"Yes, it's so dangerous, these people have been left alone for at least 200 years," Jack drawled sarcastically. "You sure it doesn't have something to with an entire town of virtual immortals? Don't think maybe they shouldn't exist or something?" Jack's voice was heavy with a bitterness he had thought long dead and buried.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Jack. There's nothing wrong with that - they're healthy, and everyone we've met so far seems happy enough - if a bit insular…"

The old anger roared up behind Jack's eyes, surprising in its intensity. He had thought himself long reconciled to that disagreement with the Doctor. "Sure they aren't _wrong_?" he muttered. The Doctor turned a sharp gaze on Jack quickly.

"_Jack_," he said quietly. "I've already said I was sorry, so many times. I admitted I made a mistake. What else can I do to prove it?"

Jack sighed. "It's not you, Doc," he said. "I thought I _was_ over it; I thought I'd forgiven you a long time ago and moved on. Just, sometimes, the old memories blindside me."

It was the Doctor's turn to sigh now. "I certainly understand how that can happen, Jack. Really, I have nothing against these people having an extended life, just as I've come to realize it's a good thing that you're so… durable. I just worry about what dangers whatever this is may draw down on these people that they aren't prepared to handle."

Jack nodded his understanding. "Let's just see what's going on with the Daleks, and worry about what comes next later."

Their conversation trailed off as they caught up to Ivan and Tamara. "So where do you two live?" Jack asked as they caught up.

"Not much further. I have no idea what's going through that man's head at the moment. We like a lot of room - and Ivan likes his babies to have room to romp - so we live outside of town 'bout 20 minutes walk. Sorry to divert you boys like this, but the longest part will be the walk itself," Tamara explained. The three trailed along behind Ivan by a few paces, as Tamara pointed out some of the local flora and talked further about some of the other residents of the town. She told him about the Cobb brothers - Everett, Elias and Emmett - and how according to town gossip, the Civil War had never truly reached their little corner of the world except through word-of-mouth reports, but after President Lincoln announced the Emancipation of the slaves, Emmett had run off to join the fight.

"He never did agree with slavery," Tamara interrupted her narrative to say. "Nobody 'round here did, really, but until that became an issue in the War after Sharpsburg, they all had pretty much decided to mind their own business as far as the war was concerned. Everett and Elias stayed behind to take care of their Ma and the farm, and Everett hasn't ever really forgiven Emmett for leaving. Ezekiel Waitte wandered into town a few years after the war was over, and hooked up with the Cobb boys and never left. Everybody tried to call him Brother Ezekiel when he got here, but he keeps insisting that Bible belonged to his little brother. He doesn't talk much about where he's from, but rumor has it he was a Missouri border raider 'round about that time. Bobby Todd Tailor grew up with the Cobbs. His family has always run the local clothiers." Everett Cobb and his brothers may be the reputed oldest residents of the town - but not by much, based on some of the other people she mentioned as she kept talking. After a few minutes, her narrative wound down to silence.

"You said that Ivan likes his babies to have room to roam; you two have kids?" Jack finally asked, when the silence had stretched on for a bit.

Tamara gave him a sad smile, and shook her head. "No, we were never fortunate enough to have children of our own," she explained. "That's why we have the babies. Technically they're ours, but they all know who Daddy is, and they all prefer Daddy."

Jack looked even more confused. Within a few seconds, they walked around a bend in the path they were following and a sprawling, one story wooden house came into view. It was framed on two sides by a deep porch dotted with various chairs, padded benches, and hanging swings, while large, open windows looked out over the front and the side they could see - Jack assumed they were echoed on the other sides of the house as well.

As soon as the house came in site, Ivan stopped and planted his fists on his hips. "Where's my babies!" he bellowed, startling both the Doctor and Jack.

His bellow was answered almost immediately by rustling in the surrounding undergrowth as something - quite a great number of somethings - began approaching. Jack edged closer to the Doctor in concern, waiting to see what would appear.

He blinked in surprise at the first small, furry face that appeared out of the shrubbery and offered a plaintive "mew" at him. It was quickly followed by another furry face from a different spot, then more - until dozens of cats, in all sizes and colors, came gamboling out of the undergrowth towards Ivan. Seven or eight came loping down the drive towards them from the house, charging forward in mad dashes, stopping to groom a moment, then rushing on. They gathered at the big man's feet, tumbling, tussling, meowing loudly.

At first, Jack thought the massive horde of cats was being joined by two sleek, black Dobermans or Rottweilers, until his admittedly stunned brain reminded him that dogs don't move in such graceful leaps and streaking bounds. The dark shapes streaking towards them from the house were two black Pumas, and Jack instinctively went for his weapon.

Tamara caught his wrist in a grip like iron, stopping his movement. She shook her head slowly when Jack looked at her. "Don't let him see you even think that," she said quietly. "He'll twist your head off if he thinks you're going to point a gun at any of his babies."

As the two Pumas reached Ivan, a third black shape came streaking towards him from further behind the house.

As the multitude of small furry bodies congregated around his feet, Ivan squatted and began stroking them all. "How's my little babies, huh?" he crooned to them. "How are my darlin's?" Cats butted against his hands, stropped against his ankles, flopped on their backs and squirmed in the dirt until he tickled their bellies.

He stood up as the first two black shapes reached him, and the smaller of the two lept at his chest, almost as if scaling him. Ivan caught it in one arm, allowing the sleek, black body to drape over his shoulder. He reached up to scratch its ears and chin as the larger of the two rose to its hind feet, bracing its front paws on his chest, and began to nuzzle his chin and cheek on the other side. Ivan alternated scritches between the two. "How are my baby girls?" Ivan cooed in a deep, rumbling baby-talk voice. "Are you happy to see Daddy?"

The third cat reached him then, and began stropping against his hips and thighs, circling the big man and curling around him. Even from where they stood goggling, Jack and the Doctor could hear their creaking purrs. The entire mass of purring cats sounded like a small cylinder engine idling. "How's my little man today?" Ivan asked the third cat. "Have you been good, baby boy?"

"Come on, let's introduce you to the kids," Tamara finally said, wading into the ocean of fur towards Ivan. The pair behind her didn't move. She stopped and turned back. "Seriously, come meet the kids," she repeated. "If Ivan doesn't introduce you, they'll take off a limb."

Finally the pair moved forward, sliding their feet to avoid stepping on any of the cats. As soon as they approached, the two Pumas on the ground stilled and fell into a half-crouch, focusing on Jack and the Doctor, while the one cradled in his arms tensed, and began flexing its claws in the back of Ivan's vest. Ivan swatted it on the rump. "Stop that," he growled.

He turned as the two got close enough. "Doctor, Jack, let me introduce you to the kids," he rumbled. He petted the biggest on at his feet on the head, scratching between the ears. "This is the mother, Madam Muleva," he said.

He moved his hand to the second one on the ground, and the big female sidled closer to sniff at the Doctor's and Jack's feet and hands. Jack tentatively reached out to pet her, and she rubbed her head affectionately against his out-stretched palm. Ivan scratched the cat's ears.

"This is her son, Barnabas Collins," he said. When he removed his hand, Barnabas circled around the watching pair and began sniffing their heels and legs. The Doctor yelped and squirmed away as the big male's curiosity got too friendly.

Ivan scratched the chin of the third one he still held. "This is my little girl, Muleva's daughter, Morgana le Fey," he explained. At his touch, Morgana relaxed bonelessly against him once more. "Okay, kids, scoot. Head to the house." he gently encouraged Morgana to get down, then began walking forwards.

As soon as he moved, all of the cats, including the three big ones, began making their lazy way towards the house, still mewling and chirruping, as though telling 'Daddy' about their day. Morgana didn't move towards the newcomers - instead, she gravitated towards the outside of the pride, away from the strangers. The Doctor kept tripping over cats that ran in front of his feet and sat down for no apparent reason.

"Surely we didn't come all this way just to meet your… babies." The Doctor said the last word disdainfully.

Ivan snorted. "'Course not. Need t' find somethin' in the house. Just gotta get through the masses first, though."

Progress was slow for everyone but Ivan as the cats kept getting in the way. As they reached the house, Ivan crossed the threshold and disappeared inside. One or two cats started to follow, but one growled "Out!" from the big man had them scurrying back to the others. As the trailing trio reached the porch, they could hear rattling and thumping from inside that caused the meowing to rise to a crescendo of noise, when Ivan came out with a two gallon pail that he began to thump. "Who wants a snack?" he asked.

The cats began to tumble over each other more energetically, eyes on the pail.

Ivan walked to the side of the porch and poured the bucket full of kibble into a long trough. The cats rushed to eat - even the pumas. "They eat cat chow?" Jack marveled.

"Yeah - it's what they've had since Ivan brought Muleva home and nursed her back to health. She dropped her litter of two, and he's kept them on dry food ever since."

Ivan stumped back into the house with the now empty pail, and Tamara stepped up on to the porch. "Come meet Oscar," she said.

The two men followed her up - and if Jack had been startled by the pumas, he was shocked by the site that greeted him on the porch. Stretched out on a padded wicker couch was the biggest, fattest jaguar he had ever seen, black spots gleaming in the healthy golden pelt. "Hiya, Oscar. Who's a good boy? How are the little uns?" Tamara asked the big cat, scratching under both sides of his jaw and chin.

Oscar, for his part, purred and yawned widely at her, then turned his head back to the squirming balls of fluff that rolled at his side and up onto his back. Jack counted at least 10 kittens, from just barely walking to a few months old, playing on and around the big jaguar. Oscar lazily stretched out one paw and scooped a kitten closer to him, then curled his head down and scrapped a broad, rough lick from the kitten's tail to its head, bowling it over in the process. He scooped it closer, and repeated the lick.

"Isn't Oscar a boy's name?" Jack asked, tentatively offering his hand. Oscar left off grooming the kitten long enough to sniff him casually, then promptly sneezed on his hand.

"Yea, he's a tom. Do you call male jaguars a tom? I have no idea. But as long as he's been with Ivan, he's never harmed a single kitten. He seems to like the company."

They could hear Ivan clumping around inside the house, shifting things around. The Doctor peered curiously at the jaguar.

"What happened to his tail?" he finally asked, noticing the three inch stub that was all the big cat sported.

"As far as we can tell, it got shot off," Tamara explained. "Ivan has a bad habit of bringing home stray cats. He found Madam Muleva starving in some traveling circus in a too small cage. When he twisted the bars off with his bare hands, the ringmaster chose not to dispute Ivan's ownership. Poor thing was nothing but skin and bones. Oscar, here, he found in the woods with a couple of bullets in him, and brought him home. Spoils the big lump rotten, he does."

Right then, Ivan came back out to the others, carrying a large leather bound tome under his arm. "Found it," he said.

"That?" Tamara exclaimed. "You dragged us out here for your scrapbook? What the hell!"

"You'll see," he growled at her. He moved to the end of the couch with Oscar, moved a few kittens back to the pile, and nudged Oscar's hindquarters out of the way. The big cat grumped, but never moved from the old sofa.

Ivan began flipping through the book, and the others could see they were a series of old images, starting with daguerreotypes and moving forward to black and white prints. Uniforms started appearing, and Ivan finally stopped. He tapped one picture of a large group of soldiers.

"Thought so," he grumbled. "Knew you looked familiar, Sarge."

With a jolt, Jack jerked as if hit with an electric shock. He hadn't been called Sarge in… decades. Quickly, he bent to look at the image and felt a cold chill as he recognized his own smirking face in the grainy black and white image. Ivan slid his finger across the image to another clean-shaven grim face. "This is me," he said.

Jack gasped. "Oh, my God," he breathed. "Private Makenzie. I remember you now."

"Fought beside you at Verdun. Lost track of you at Flanders. Thought for sure you didn't make it out of there. What ever happened with that fop frog pilot Philippe?" he asked with a smirk.

"Left him behind in Paris after the war," Jack answered absently, scanning the other photos for familiar faces. He did a double-take. "Wait - how did you know about Philippe? I thought we were discreet?"

Ivan chuckled.. "You were. I'm just good at… knowing stuff. Know some other curious things 'bout you, too. Here, hold this," he said, pushing the album at Jack. After Jack took the book, Ivan stood and went back inside. Jack continued to flip slowly through the pages, looking at comrades long since dead and all but forgotten.

After a few minutes, Ivan came back with a leather-wrapped bundle in one hand.

"Y' left something behind at Flanders," he stated. "Kept it 'cause it seemed a shame to let it get forgotten, figured you might want it back." He handed the bundle to Jack, and took his album back, closing it gently.

Jack began to unwrap the bundle, and revealed the softly gleaming dark metal of a Webley .45 revolver, beautifully maintained. Jack grinned in delight, sliding his hand around the grip like he was taking the hand of a long-lost lover. "My original service revolver! I always wondered what happened to it!"

"Flanders redefined hellish insanity," Ivan rumbled. "Lot of stuff got lost - lot of people. I saw it fall, watched you get carried away, and kept it. Quit using it when my hand got too big for it. Glad I could return it to you."

"This is all lovely," the Doctor finally said, his impatience boiling over, "but I really think the Daleks are a bit more important than trading war stories with old buddies."

Ivan pulled himself to his full height, and glared down at the much smaller Time Lord. "Had a reason for this, Doctor - a purpose," he growled, frowning "Me and the wife have told you a lot of stuff that's hard to believe - stuff we don't tell most folks that aren't from these parts. Stuff that even we admit should be impossible." He reached back into the house, and dropped the album on a hard surface of some sort just out of sight inside the door.

"Figured if I could prove we weren't full of shit, you'd be more willing to believe some of the next stuff we're going to show you and tell you. Talk ain't nothing but a bunch of loud hot air. Now you got proof I ain't just blowing smoke. Now - now we can go back to town and show you how we're going to deal with your Daleks." It was the longest speech that either of the two men had heard Ivan deliver, and it carried the weight of conviction behind each word. Ivan reached down to absently scratch Oscar, who mouthed his fingers, then licked his hand.

"Time t' go, now," Ivan muttered. He reached back and pulled the door closed, then clumped down the stairs and down the path away. "Watch the house, kids," he called back.

Jack finally tore his eyes away from the returned gun to smirk at the Doctor. "Guess he told you," he said.

"I guess he did at that," the Doctor agreed. He followed Ivan off the porch. Jack looked from the house to Tamara.

"You don't lock your door?" he asked.

Tamara gave him an incredulous look, then leaned around him in an exaggerated gesture to look at the three pumas lounging in the afternoon sun on the porch, then swiveled to look at Oscar. "Would you want to come here when Ivan and I weren't home?" she asked. "I figure anybody makes it in and out of here in one piece, they deserve to keep what they take!" Then she, too, began the walk back to town.

Jack laughed, and paused long enough to stash the Webley and the leather wrap in his pocket, scratch Oscar and pet the kittens, then bounded jauntily down the steps to catch up with Tamara. Suddenly, he was a lot more optimistic about the coming confrontation.

* * *

><p>All through the subsequent walk back to town, the Doctor remained unusually quiet, lost deep in his own thoughts. Ivan remained his usual stoic self, while Tamara and Jack chatted idly about inconsequential topics such as the big cats that Ivan had collected and nursed back to health. The sun was sinking low towards a golden afternoon when the quartet finally reached an old, three-story building on the outskirts of town. The building itself was impressive for its size and age, but there was nothing of note to indicate the purpose it served.<p>

"Wait here," Tamara told them. "I'll pop in to the office, and let them know we're visiting." With that, she took the short flight of concrete stairs and disappeared into the building.

"So what is this place?" Jack asked. "Research campus? Laboratory?"

"High school," Ivan replied a Tamara walked out again.

"Yeah, Nick is still here," she called as she motioned for them to join her at the top of the steps. "Principal Edwards said we could go on back when we were ready."

The three men rapidly ascended the stairs to join her, and they entered the cool, dim lobby of the building at rest for the day. The main doors opened onto a tiled lobby that showcased a display of trophies - Jack noted with interest as they passed that there were academic as well as athletic trophies on display - and down a corridor past a wide open room, sectioned off by lattice brickwork and filled with long, benched tables. He assumed some sort of cafeteria area. Tamara led them left through another dim corridor, away from the cafeteria area, and out another set of doors to the back of the building where four mobile trailers such as those used as offices on construction sites were arranged to form something of a quad area, two trailers facing them in the back, and one facing inward on either side. The four made their way to the back trailer on the right.

"After the hydrogen fiasco four years ago, school administrators won't let Nick have a classroom in the building," she explained.

"Hydrogen fiasco?" Jack repeated. "Do I even want to know?" Jack was somewhat concerned by how quiet the Doctor had been ever since leaving Ivan and Tamara's home earlier, but he could tell the Doctor was lost in his own thoughts.

Tamara shrugged, then reached up and knocked on the trailer door before grasping the handle. "While it is an entertaining story, it isn't really relevant to the current situation," she explained, easing the door open. "Nick!" she called out, "brought you some visitors that wanna talk about the Devil's Trashcans!"

"Oh, excellent!" a young male voice called from the back of the bright, cluttered room. Every practical bit of floor space was covered by beakers, retorts, coils, burners, wires or cages. The majority of the back wall was taken up by stacked cages and terrariums. They could hear footsteps approaching, and suddenly an ageless man seemed to pop up from nowhere, smiling contagiously at them.

He could have been as young as 20, or as old as 60; the man who appeared had closely shaven hair an indeterminate dark color and bright blue eyes that shone with an inner mirth. A tanned face that sported smile creases around the mouth and laugh lines around the eyes made it hard to accurately judge his age, and he was wearing acid washed jeans and a navy turtleneck under a white lab coat. Safety goggles were dangling around his neck, and his smile broadened as he extended his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you gentlemen!" he exclaimed, his voice quick and melodic, marking him distinctly as not a local. "Nicholas Tesla - but call me Nick - and no, not that Tesla, but I'm supposedly related somehow."

He thrust forward a hand and Jack tried not to gape. If the man had been taller, his accent from a good bit further North, it would have been almost impossible for Jack to meet the man without weeping outright - as much as he had come to love the new face, he still missed the first Doctor's face he had come to know from time to time. As it was, as he pumped the energetic man's hand, it only evoked a memory, instead of duplicating it. "How did you know-"

"You were going to ask?" Nick interrupted. "Everybody does - it's all but pandemic. Supposedly I'm a great nephew or third cousin or something - one of those Auntie Jackie's cousin's sister's boy kind of relations. Mom thought it would be good to saddle me with the name, and after that, well, it was almost destiny for me to go into science and electrical research and engineering." He pumped first Jack's, then the Doctor's hand. "So you know about the invaders, huh? Want to tell me what you've got, or would you prefer to share information?"

Jack waited for the Doctor to speak, but he was off in his own world again. "Why don't you show us what you've got, and we'll fill in any gaps you may have?"

Nick bounced on his toes, and beamed. "Fantastic!" he exclaimed. With quick steps, he began moving towards the door to the trailer. "Tamara, could you bring those two totes to the classroom while I walk these gentlemen over? Ivan, if you don't mind, I was right in the middle of feeding time at the zoo. Can you finish up?"

Ivan grunted, and moved towards the back of the trailer. Tamara smiled and followed her husband. "Yeah, I can bring 'em over, Nick," she said. "This is Captain Jack Harkness - keep an eye on him, he's a frisky sort - and the Doctor. They seem to have run into these things before, so I thought they might want to join in the fight."

"Hey, the more the merrier, I say!" Nick agreed, bouncing down the wooden steps of the trailer past the Doctor and Jack, and practically running to the second trailer on the left. As the two time travelers followed, Nick unlocked the door and flipped on the lights, practically hurling himself into the room that looked more like a traditional science classroom. The walls and floor were an almost eye-tearing white under the bright lights, and the ceiling was cross-hatched with a metal frame that held up the sound absorbing drop ceiling tiles. Above each desk, a small fluorescent bulb was mounted, casting each desk in a brighter circle of light. The teacher's desk was actually two lab tables, one cleared for use with hands-on work, the other dominated by a truly impressive computer setup. Nick was flicking on the monitor and hitting the switch on what looked like a projector when the two men caught up

"Let's see what our little devils are up to today," Nick muttered as he took a seat and the projector warmed. As the device booted and began to sync with the computer, Jack gasped even as he felt the Doctor give a start beside him. The image being projected was of the Daleks, surrounded by tall trees and undergrowth.

"When was this recorded?" the Doctor finally spoke.

"It's being recorded right now - what you're seeing is real-time feed," Nick explained. "We started to do a wireless transmitter, but decided that would be too easily detected or blocked, so the engineering students ran cable and hooked up an all-weather telezoom camera. It's about 200 yards out." He fell silent as he frowned in concentration for a moment. "Good, good," he muttered. "Whatever it is they're doing, they haven't changed their speed or process - so they aren't done and they aren't ready to move yet." He tapped a few keys, and while the window on the monitor remained the same, the image on the screen blurred backwards.

"We can tell they're building something, but we don't know enough about these things to say what. We keep the monitor rolling 24/7, and periodically review the footage to see what changes.

The Doctor whipped out his spectacles, and peered at the screen. "How many recordings do you have?" he asked.

Nick glanced back at the pair as he started playback on the main screen. "We found Charlie and Ted Bronson's bodies nine days ago. Considering how much time they spent in these woods, we figure these things showed up approximately 10 days ago - any earlier than that, and the boys would have found them sooner. We ran the cables that afternoon, once we found their encampment - so about 8 and ½ days' worth of footage." The entire time he spoke, he had watched the video playback of the day's activities at accelerated playback. Tamara had come in behind them, carrying two large Rubbermaid totes, which she settled on the main lab table.

"Anything new?" she asked.

"Same old, same old," Nick answered.

"Can you call up the previous footage?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes, it's all here - but even at the speed I watch it at, we're talking hours of playback," Nick advised.

"How fast can you set playback on this system?" the Doctor asked.

"I can usually watch it at 3 to 4 times normal speed, but the system can handle as much as 12 times." Nick tapped a few more keys and brought up the same area they'd been watching. It was apparent this was an earlier time - the Daleks had made minimal impact on the surrounding woods at this point.

"Set it for maximum playback speed," the Doctor said. "I can keep up."

"Fair enough," Nick agreed with a shrug. "Tap the spacebar when you want to pause." A few more clicks, and a blur of images started on the wall, the focus of the Doctor's attention. Nick pushed away from the desk and moved over to where Tamara waited. Not getting anything out of the video, Jack followed.

"So what's in the box?" he asked.

"This is what we've been able to retrieve from the - what did you call them? Daleks?" Nick settled the top tote beside the bottom tote, and pulled the lids off both. "We've been using these bits and pieces to test our options and ideas, figuring out what will work on those things."

Arrayed in the boxes were chunks and strips of Dalekanium, all of them showing evidence of damage from breaks to cracks, and burns to what appeared to be melting. "We've had mixed success, but some things have definitely been spectacular."

"Were you the one that developed the plasma bullets?" Jack asked.

Nick grinned broadly, and the expression made him look childlike. "That's been my favorite so far!" he exclaimed. "Too bad it's so tricky to get the balance right, or I'd just run up a few hundred rounds and turn our hunters loose on those things. I decided they'd do best with our sharpshooter, Ivan, considering how limited the number."

Jack lifted an oddly-colored piece of Dalekanium out of the box, and was surprised when it crumbled in his hands. "What did this?" he exclaimed.

"Oh, that was me," Nick replied absently. He had pulled a notebook out of the boxes and began flipping through it. Jack noticed the pages were covered with formula and diagrams. "For the most part, the metal these things are constructed from is incredibly strong - but there are certain things we've discovered that will affect the molecular cohesion, and reduce the overall strength - or increase the cohesion to the point of brittleness, at which point it can be shattered."

Jack knew he was gawping, and didn't care. "May I see your notes?" he finally asked.

With a smile that bordered on smirk, Nick handed over the notebook, and Jack quickly paged through the information.

"This... this is brilliant!" he finally breathed. Nick had included diagrams of the Daleks that he had seen, and of each component that had been recovered, and some of his extrapolations were frighteningly accurate. "Some of these formulas shouldn't even be known for another 10 centuries, at least - and some of this has never been thought of before. You, Mr. Tesla, are brilliant - and I do so love an intelligent man." Jack's smile was edging quickly towards a leer.

"What a coincidence," Nick replied. "I love a blue-eyed man."

"I will get a garden hose on you two," Tamara interrupted. "Daleks now, flirting later."

Nick gave her a rueful smile. "You're right, I need to focus." He started pulling segments out of the totes, and arranging them on the table. "Ivan has been most instrumental in retrieving pieces for us to examine and experiment upon. I have no idea what those things are normally capable of, but I'm guessing they're at a reduced capacity for some reason." He took the notebook back from Jack and flipped through it until he came to an illustration of the Dalek's gun.

"Take this, for example," he said, pointing to the illustration before them. "I'm making extrapolations based on the work I've done with electricity, so I'll concede the point immediately that this is purely speculation on my part, but looking at how this is designed, I would estimate this is some sort of energy conductor - based on their hostility and observable temperament, I assume that it is supposed to be some sort of energy weapon. Yet so far, they have only ever utilized rudimentary chemical projectile weapons, or primitive rail guns, instead! We've seen them ingest nothing and leave no organic waste deposits. Perhaps it is an inaccurate assessment, but I believe them to be completely mechanical in nature - which should mean they have no need of sleep - and yet their levels of activity decrease exponentially during the night. This leads me assume they are charging through solar methods, not a normal thing for these creatures since they are absorbing energy so inefficiently."

Nick flipped to a different page, and tapped on the schematic of a Dalek's base that he had sketched. "Look at the base, here - obviously not bipedal locomotion, so how do they move? Can't be wheels - without some sort of articulated tread, it would be impractical to design a self-motivated device capable of navigating the common obstacles of any civilization; steps, curbs, door frames or what have you. I propose that these Daleks, as you call them, move on some sort of cushion of air or repulsor field, which isn't working correctly at the moment, or they wouldn't be having such difficulties navigating the natural terrain around their encampment."

Almost as if materializing in their midst, "Amazing!" he muttered. "Simply amazing! Jack's right, you really are brilliant, and I don't say that about many people other than myself. What are you doing out here, teaching high school?"

Nick shrugged. "I tried teaching at a university, and I tried working in a lab. I'd rather work here. Out here, as long as I teach, they let me play with what I want instead of working on what they expect. Teaching pays all the bills I need, and I don't have to worry about being forced into any sort of weapons research. I can work on pure science. And making things go boom, 'cause well, that's just plain fun."

The Doctor's face was overtaken by an incredulous smile. "This is why I explore - to meet brilliant people like you!" he exclaimed. He handed back the notebook, and turned to the paused playback.

"Most of what you assume is correct. The Daleks are profoundly diminished from what they normally are like, which is the only reason they haven't obliterated your entire town yet. It looks like they are stranded here, their energy source depleted. From what I can see in your playback, they are attempting to repair their ship, but there is something here that they want."

"I can't imagine what those things could possibly want around here," Nick mused, studying the random bits of Dalek tech they'd collected. The Doctor and Jack traded significant looks, which Nick and Tamara missed.

Nick suddenly clapped his hands together. "Well, whatever they want, let me show you what we've got for them. Ivan!" Nick called, just as the door opened. "We need more light. Would you be so kind, and save me from having to drag out the ladder?"

Ivan let the door close behind him, and grunted acknowledgment. He walked over to the row of desks next to where they others were standing, and reached up to the light above the desk. With a click, he simply pulled the light off of the metal framework that supported the sound-proof drop tiles of the ceiling and walked it over to where they were standing, and stuck it to the ceiling beside the light already present. The entire time it was in transit, the bulb glowed continuously, bathing the work station with more light.

"Oh, that's clever, that is!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Broadcast energy?"

Nick grinned in reply. "Considering my namesake, you really think I could have developed anything else? I haven't got all systems converted yet, but the lights in the trailers were easy enough to start with. Sooner or later, I'll be able to talk the rest of the town into letting me convert all the buildings to broadcast energy."

Tamara snorted. "Good luck with that," she said. "You remember what a fuss the Cobb brothers made about indoor plumbing."

"Yeah, yeah," Nick waved away her objection. "Now they won't do without it, will they? This will be the same way, once I get 'em talked into it." He grinned broadly, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Anyway, you wanted to know what little treasures we have cooked up," Nick continued, rubbing his hands together gleefully. Opening the table's broad drawer, he removed four pairs of safety glasses and passed them around. Then he pulled out two small glass vials, scooping up a stray fragment of Dalekanium, Nick moved a few steps over to an empty workstation.

"This is how the bullets will work," he explained, pulling his safety goggles up from where they dangled around his neck and seating them in place as the other four slipped on the safety glasses he'd provided. Unstoppering one vial, he allowed a single drop of liquid to land on the metal. Then he scooped up the second vial and added an additional drop of liquid.

The combined fluids flared with the brightness of a plasma cutter for a few seconds, until the resources had been consumed, and when the five observers blinked their vision clear of the flash effects, they found a ragged hole slagged straight through the alien metal.

Jack whistled appreciatively, even as he was scanning the vials and the Dalekanium with his wrist strap. "How did you even come up with these base formula?" he marveled.

Nick shrugged self-consciously. "Trial and error, mostly," he admitted.

Tamara snorted. "Why do you think he isn't allowed a classroom in the main building anymore?" she interjected. "His two favorite words are 'trial' and 'error'."

Nick sniffed. "Not entirely true. They may be two of my favorite words, but they aren't my absolute favorites. I'm also partial to 'frottage' and 'onanism'."

"Garden hose. Your name on it," Ivan grumbled. "Just saying."

The Doctor snorted. "Nice to know I'm not the only one that has to deal with people saying 'hello' in inappropriate terms," he mumbled.

"Moving right along!" Nick announced in a loud, bright voice. "It also stands to reason that this metal should hold similar properties to diamonds – only affected by itself – so I experimented and made a few of these."

Moving back to the main table, Nick opened the supplies drawer again and rummaged for a few seconds, then pulled out a handful of long, slender shapes. Four of them had a spiraling, corkscrew shape that came to a discrete point, while four looked more like elongated scalpels.

"This was a nightmare to work with to get it right, but I have to admit the challenge was fun!" Nick explained. The Doctor and Jack just looked at him with blank expressions.

"You still have to put a good bit of umph behind it, so if you would be so kind, Ivan?" Nick offered the handful towards the big man, who selected a scalpel and a drill bit carefully from the small scientist. Then he picked up the test scrap used earlier and used the scalpel to shave off a thin curl of metal. Jack gasped and the Doctor gaped in an unattractive way, but their reaction paled after watching Ivan proceed to screw the drill bit straight through the piece he held.

"How on Earth were you able to do that?" the Doctor finally exclaimed, plucking one of the scalpels out of Nick's hand. Studying it closely, his sonic screwdriver confirmed it was indeed Dalekanium. "Even Daleks themselves have trouble shaping Dalekanium to this fine a degree!"

Nick offered an embarrased grin, and shrugged. "Trial and error," he said again. "And Betsy."

"Betsy?"

"Ivan, would you be so kind?" Nick gestured towards a locked cabinet at the front of the trailer classroom. Taking the keys from Nick's desk, Ivan shambled over and unlocked the doors, folding them open and reaching in to roll out a tall, conical device with a tower of concentric coils extending from the top. Hanging from the side was a pair of gloves connected to the device by heavy cables. Ivan slid the device over to where Nick and the boxes of Dalek scrap were waiting.

"Betsy," Nick exclaimed with a flourish. "When Ivan first started bringing back pieces of those Dalek-things, I began experimenting with everything I could think of – water, fire, cold, chemicals and electricity." As he spoke, he slid his hands into the obviously well-insulated gloves, and flicked on the device. The hum of building power filled the room, and Jack could feel the hairs on his arm stand up, and saw stray hairs on the others rise in response to the charge. He could only assume his own hair was doing the same.

Nick flexed his fingers in the gloves, then brought his hands towards each other, making electricity arc between his extended fingers. He lifted a fragment of Dalekanium, and grasped it in both hands. Sparkles of electric fire coruscated over the metal between the two gloves, and after a few seconds, Nick began to pull.

Like extremely cold taffy, the Dalekanium began to stretch and thin.

"That- that- that's impossible!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Nick shrugged. "And yet, here I am. Not so impossible, but extremely difficult."

"Nothing affects Dalekanium like that!" the Doctor insisted.

"If either glove loses contact once you start, you have to allow the charge to build again from scratch," Nick explained. "If you over work a piece, it becomes too brittle. I can make crude shapes – Tamara made the drill bits and scalpels." He continued working the metal as though he were shaping Play-Doh, squeezing, pulling and stretching, until he had made a recognizable rock hammer.

"Here, catch!" he said suddenly, lobbing the newly-created hammer towards Jack. Jack flinched, even as his instincts reacted to catch the flying item. To his surprise, it was cool to the touch. He brandished it for a few seconds, then tested the flex of the metal in his hand. There was no give at all – the hammer seemed as sturdy as though it had originally been formed from the impenetrable metal. "Call it a souvenir of your visit," Nick added with a wink. Jack grinned in response.

Nick flicked off the Vandergraft Generator, and removed the gloves, returning them to their place, and Ivan slid the entire machine back to the storage cupboard.

"So that's Betsy," Nick continued. "Between that, the plasma bullets, and the other delaying strategies the folks in town have worked out, I see no reason why we shouldn't give a good accounting of ourselves when the Devil's Trashcans – I'm sorry – Daleks – come to call."

The Doctor bowed his head, eyes focused on the scalpel he still held, shoulder's slumped. "I've been fighting the Daleks in one form or another for centuries," he murmured. "How can I stand by now and let someone else fight my battles for me?"

Jack slipped the Dalekanium hammer into his pocket, and gripped the Doctor's shoulder. "The Daleks aren't your enemy alone, Doctor," he said. "They're the enemies of the entire universe. It isn't your responsibility alone to fight them."

"These things came to us," Ivan growled. "Killed two of our own. This particular fight is no longer yours alone. Now, we have a stake in it."

"And you should know by now, boys," Tamara interjected. "You don't wave a red flag in front of a Southerner and expect to walk away without a fight. Not happening."

"Not even from an adopted Southerner such as myself," Nick added with a wry grin. "Well, that's all I can show you for now," he finally said. "I was just heading home for the night after feeding time, so if you gentlemen have no other questions for me, I'd like to finish closing up shop."

"Thanks for the demonstration, Nick," Tamara said. She packed away the fragments that had been pulled out and closed up the boxes.

"Do you want these back in the lab trailer?" she asked.

"No, you can leave them there," Nick replied with a negligent flick of his hand. "I'm going to turn the seniors loose on them tomorrow, to see what they can learn. Ivan, did you put everybody to bed next door?"

Ivan gave a confirming jerk of his chin. "All safe, sound and watered. Willie and Anne look t' be doin' well."

Nick grinned. "Exceptionally well. They should be ready to go in another couple of weeks. I can't wait!"

"Willie and Anne?" Jack cast an inquiring look towards Nick.

"Pair of Barred Owls over in the laboratory," he clarified.

The Doctor made a small moue of concern. "Why, exactly, does a high school science teacher – even one as brilliant as yourself – keep animals in cages in your lab?" he finally asked.

Nick gave him a bewildered look as he put away the few pieces of equipment that had been pulled out, and tidied up the classroom before leaving. "Because if we didn't use cages, the snakes would eat the smaller animals?"

The Doctor huffed an exasperated breath. "I mean, why do you have them at all?' He turned back to the still-projected image of the Dalek encampment, noting that as the sun sank, the activity did, indeed, wane.

"Oh!" Nick exclaimed in understanding. "Depends on the animal! Willie and Anne, for example, were fledglings that survived their nest getting knocked down by a lightning strike. Hunters brought them in, so we've raised them up. They've almost finished fledging, so they'll be ready to return to the wild soon. Some of the critters get brought in for broken limbs, or illness, or rejected by a mother – whatever. If they can fend for themselves, they go out when they're ready. If they can't, they stay with me until it's time for them to move on, and my classes observe them as part of their natural science classes. The kids in physical science, biology and farming sciences help care for them as part of their regular class work."

The slight amount of tension the Doctor had felt over hearing 'animals' and 'lab' faded before he truly realized it was there. He turned and moved towards the door with the others, offering a bright smile. "Sounds lovely!" he exclaimed. "I must come see them tomorrow, if you don't mind?"

Nick's entire face lit up with the smile that over took him. "That would be fantastic! I'd love to have the kids meet you, if you don't mind?"

"No trouble at all!" the Doctor replied, bouncing down the steps of the trailer to the pseudo courtyard in front.

"Excellent! I'm usually here by 7 AM, first bell is at 8. Drop in any time, and I'll let the office know I'm expecting you, so feel free to just come straight back."

Nick flicked off the overhead lights, leaving the computer running, and closed the door behind them all. Confirming it had locked, he walked the short distance to check the lab trailer, then led the small group out through the school.

"Until tomorrow, then!" he said with a smile and a wave, and headed off away from the school in the opposite direction than the one in which the four were moving.

"Feeling a little better about the situation there, Pinstripes?" Tamara asked.

The Doctor gave her a considering frown. "Meh... A bit, I admit. I won't truly feel better until I know for certain what those monsters are after, and we've put paid to them."

"Well, can't blame you for that. As long as you're done with the whole 'they're my problem and you can't play with my toys' moaning for now," she answered with a smirk.

The Doctor looked gobsmacked. "Moaning! I most certainly do not moan!" he protested.

Tamara and Ivan both snorted, while Jack smirked. "Pinstripes, you don't just moan, you piss and moan, and agonize. With a healthy dose of angsting splashed on top," Tamara corrected.

"Carry on like a girl," Ivan grumbled.

The Doctor went red with indignation. "Agon- Jack! Jack, tell them I do not agonize – and I most certainly do not angst!" he demanded.

Jack choked down on his laughter at seeing the Doctor's outrage. "Doc, not that you, of all people, don't have reason to suffer black moods, doldrums, melancholy, gloom, depression and/or sulks as you see fit – you do sorta angst sometimes. Like an over-grown goth." A single snicker escaped before Jack could catch it, and the Doctor's expression darkened towards Oncoming Storm proportions.

Tamara linked her arm through Jack's, and led him off away from the remaining pair. "Let's go over to Bill's Billiards, Mr. Dimples. You look like a man who knows how to rack 'em."

Jack glanced back at the fuming Doctor, opened his mouth then promptly closed it again. As they pulled even further ahead of their companions, he grinned crookedly at Tamara. "You really shouldn't give me openings like that," he said. She laughed, and the pair strode away.

Ivan loomed up behind the silently fuming Doctor. "If you live long enough," he said in a low voice that rolled like thunder, "y' see all kindsa things, good and bad. After a while, the bad over rides the good, no matter how much more you experience of it than of the bad times." He started walking, his large presence herding the Doctor along without a single touch.

"Dwelling on the bad is easy; y' always find y'self thinkin' 'bout the what ifs – what if I'd said... what if I'd done.. what if I hadn't pulled the trigger, or even worse, what if I had?" Ivan didn't look at the Doctor as he spoke, but he knew the smaller man's stormy eyes were locked on him as they walked. "Dwelling is a hard habit t' break; it was easier to quit smokin'. If yer lucky, y' get people like my Tamara – and your Jack – who'll try to knock some sense into ya, break y' outta yer rut. She's a good woman, puts up with more 'n her fair share o' my pissin' 'n moanin' 'n bad temper, but she's the smartest woman I know. Smarter 'n me, anyway. Wouldn't trade her for love nor money. Might want t' think on listenin' to her some. She says you was moanin', most likely y' were, and don't realize it."

The big mountain of a man lapsed into silence then, and kept walking. The Doctor matched his strides and walked with him, still glowering. "I can't help but contemplate the... the evil I've precipitated in my life," he finally said. "I'm almost 10 times your age, Ivan. If you knew the atrocities I have had to perpetrate in all that time..."

Ivan stopped, and thrust his empty hands towards the Doctor, palms up and fingers spread. "Do you know how much blood is on these hands? I don't, not anymore. I lost count, long time ago. Y' know why I took those lives? Not because they were bad or evil men, but because their uniform was a different color than mine. They believed something I didn't, and the only way to prove who was right was to fight 'til only one of us was left. I understand 'bout the contemplatin', the dwellin', the moanin'. All I'm sayin', and all Tamara, and I reckin' Jack, too, is sayin', is don't lose sight of the fact that there's more to life than moanin'."

He started walking again, and after a few seconds, the Doctor caught up and matched his pace. "Didn't think you were capable of quite so much speech," the Doctor grumped.

Ivan snorted. "Don't do it often," he grumped back. "Tend to burst into spontaneous preachin' every time I do. Don't like it." The pair lapsed into silence, and continued walking.

* * *

><p>After a few minutes, the Doctor finally blinked and peered around at the unfamiliar settings. "Where are we?" he asked.<p>

"Walking my rounds," Ivan rumbled. "Usually do one quick turn 'round town as the shops are closing, make sure everything is in order, then head home. Goin' t' Bill's tonight, though, so you c'n collect Mr. Dimples."

"Ah." The Doctor acknowledged. He gazed curiously around the town, examining storefronts and buildings as they passed, noting the age of the structures and that they were all fairly well maintained, regardless. He spotted the five rocking chairs in front of the general store, noting they had been abandoned for the evening as the shops closed. Ivan – and therefore the Doctor – walked a crisscross pattern around the town, covering the main street and alleys. Any people that were out and about greeted Ivan warmly, eying the Doctor with curiosity.

Eventually, Ivan's path led them to the far end of town to a windowless one-story frame structure that had a painted wooden sign declaring the establishment as simply "Bill's Billiards". When the door opened, a wave of warm air, heavy with the smell of untreated wood, smoke and alcohol, rolled over them in conjunction with a wave of sound that hit like a physical force, which quickly sorted itself out into a mixture of music, conversation, and laughter. The Doctor trailed along in Ivan's wake as they entered, cutting a path through the milling, chattering crowd of people in the building. The Doctor could almost feel the weight of the patron's regard as he followed the broad back before him, and came to the realization that of the two of them – he with his slight form and pinstripe suit, and the looming Ivan with his all black ensemble and open display of weapons – he was the one being greeted with suspicion and an underlying current of fear.

Ivan led them through the length of the room and suddenly moved towards his left, towards the wall of the building, allowing the Doctor a full view of four billiards tables lined up two by two in a square pattern. Tamara and Jack had the use of the nearest table on the left, judging by the presence of Tamara bent over the table with her cue to make a shot. Jack was leaning against the wall, glass mug of amber liquid in one hand and cue in the other, and had just laughed at something said to him by a man at the table behind theirs. Jack caught sight of the Doctor as he walked closer, and his grin broadened.

"Doc! Glad to see you joined us! Grab a pint and come have a seat!" Jack said with a smile.

The Doctor gave a small half smile and shook his head. "No thank you, Jack. Have you been having fun?"

Jack's grinned slid more towards a smirk. "When I've had a chance at the table, yeah. You didn't warn me your wife was a shark." This last was directed towards Ivan.

Ivan smirked. "Didn't ask," he grunted.

"I told him it didn't surprise me none that Tamara had to bring in a foreigner to find somebody as would shoot with her," the man from the other table offered in a lazy drawl as he stepped up to the table to take his turn. "Ain't none of us been stupid enough to play against her for years now."

Tamara finished three shots in rapid succession, sinking three balls, then stepped back from the table after her fourth shot. "Oh, I'm not that bad," she scolded. "I just like to play!"

Jack quaffed a deep drink from his glass, and set it on the small shelf that ran a border around the room. Hefting his cue, he stepped up to the table. "To be more precise," he said, "you like to win."

Tamara shrugged, her manner somewhat self-deprecating. "Can you blame me?" As Jack took his turn at the table, she slid over and leaned into her husband. "Town settled in for the night?" she asked, snuggling against him. He passed one massive arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"Yep. All quiet," he agreed.

"Good. You boys have a place to stay lined up for the night?" She asked, looking towards the Doctor. "We don't have much in the way of a hotel around these parts."

The Doctor waved away her concern with a flick of his wrist. "We don't have to worry about that. We travel with our own sleeping accommodations."

"Ah, a motor coach," she nodded in understanding.

The Doctor waggled his head. "Something like that. When you're done here, Jack, I'd like to head back. I've got some scans to analyze, and I'd like to run a few more scans now that we have some more information."

Jack slid the cue back and forth a few times, then slammed it forward smoothly into the cueball. The soft clicks of the balls connecting and bouncing against each other could be heard as Jack stood and turned to face the Doctor. With a grin, he dropped his cue onto the table. "We can leave now," he said. "Game's over."

Tamara looked at the table in time to watch the eight ball drop into a pocket, the last ball to fall. "Sumbitch!" she exclaimed. "You little devil!" She laughed, and tossed him her cue to add to the table, then retrieved her own glass and drained the contents.

"Come on, Mr. Dimples. The hubby and I will walk you two home," she said.

"That won't be necessary," Jack replied calmly. "We should be able to find our way back to where we parked just fine."

Ivan let go of his wife, and began moving towards the door. "Should. Wouldn't count on it, though," he muttered. Jack drained his glass, and he, the Doctor and Tamara moved to follow Ivan out of the room.

"Seriously, you don't need to walk all that way with us," the Doctor reiterated. "We'll be perfectly fine to find our way."

Tamara snorted. "That isn't what we're worried about," she replied. "The place ain't all that big – so it's real hard to get lost in town and the immediate outskirts. It's what's out there that could cause you problems. Ivan's babies aren't the only big cats in this area, and you two out there alone... you'd just look like a tasty snack to some of the critters out there roaming around."

The Doctor sighed. Looks like there was going to be guests in the TARDIS again tonight.

* * *

><p>Ivan walked beside the Doctor, leading the other pair through the night-dark streets of the small town. Jack and Tamara fell into step with each other, almost as though they had marched together for years. "You really think we'd be in some kind of danger walking through the streets on our own? Or are you just being nosy?" Jack asked with a smile.<p>

Tamara snorted in laughter. "Okay, I'll concede to a little bit of nosy, but tell me something about that doo-dad you got there. I'm assumin' it's for more than just decoration, right?"

Jack smirked. "You could say that. Its my vortex manipulator. Think of it as a wrist-sized computer."

"Didn't I see you scanning stuff with it back at Nick's lab?" she asked.

Jack brought his wrist up and flipped open the cover for his manipulator, powering it on at the same time. "You would be correct. With this baby, I can scan, record, and trace just about anything. I _used_ to be able to do space and time hops until _somebody_ fried those circuits." Jack cast a purposeful glare at the oblivious back of the Doctor.

"Go ahead and scan or whatever it is you do, and tell me what's out there in the dark," Tamara had a mysterious little smile on her lips as she watched the moving back of her husband and their newest friend leading the way.

With the arch of one finely shaped eyebrow, Jack brought his wrist up and flipped open the cover of his vortex manipulator, and began a quick scan of the surrounding area. At first, nothing registered on the device, but as the scan extended outward, he noticed a few anomalies, sensor shapes appearing on the screen that weren't visible in the velvet darkness around them. Fine-tuning the device a bit further, the shapes registered as one large, four medium and a handful of small mammalian predators, as well as two cooler, stationary reptilian forms in the area. Both eyebrows shot up, and his eyes cut towards Tamara.

"What the heck?"

The tall woman continued to smirk. "We don't have too many problems with animals around here, but they do live in the area. Most people know not to come out this far at night unless they're either in a good-sized group or armed to kill. Not much of a problem with Ivan; he's out here so much his scent is everywhere. Most critters recognize him as a bigger, badder predator and won't mess with him."

Unaware that their companions were close enough to overhear their quiet conversation, Jack was surprised when Ivan snorted derisively at Tamara's comment. "Predator my ass," he grumbled. "They just know I'm too big a bite for them t' mess with."

"Oh, whatever. You can't tell me these two bits of nothing would've been left alone out here without us," she shot back.

"Didn't say that, now did I?" Ivan returned.

"So what is it that we're avoiding?" Jack interrupted.

Tamara stepped closer and peered curiously at the readout on his wrist. "Dunno. What's showing up?"

Jack extended his wrist for her to see easier, and pointed out the signals he was picking up. "Quite a bit more than I would've expected," he stated.

"Huh. Well, without running into them directly, looks like one of the stray big cats – cougar, probably – a handful of coyotes, some foxes, and two gators. You shouldn't have to worry about them, as long as you don't wander into the waterways," she clarified. She clapped him heartily on the shoulder as she stepped ahead of him. "And with the big ol' side of beef on the hoof up there, even if they do get brave they'll leave you two underfed calves for dessert," she quipped with a grin. Her long legs stretched into her stride, quickly bringing her up apace with her husband, with whom she linked arms and matched pace. Jack watched the scans for a few seconds longer, and noticed the medium sized signatures were circling around to flank the four of them. With a minor burst of effort, he caught up with the other three and continued the walk to the TARDIS.

* * *

><p>It was only a few seconds more before the welcoming sight of the battered blue box appeared in the gleaming moonlight. So far away from any people and outside the town limits as they were, the sky above them was an endless swath of diamond stars, almost bright enough to have illuminated the path without the additional light from the waxing moon. Once the TARDIS was in sight, Ivan and Tamara came to a complete halt, and stared in confusion.<p>

"How the heck did that get out here?" Tamara marveled.

"That's my ship – the TARDIS," the Doctor proclaimed proudly, continuing forward even as he fished the key from his pocket.

Jack grinned at the pair as he passed them by. "Nice to know we can pull out the surprise once in a while around here," he said in an aside. After a second or two, the tall duo trailed after the newcomers.

Pulling away from Tamara's hold, Ivan moved to circle the TARDIS, disappearing almost immediately into the night with his usual silent tread. Within seconds, he was appearing around the opposite side, and settling a hard, suspicious look on the smiling face of Jack Harkness. "Seriously, Sarge, how did you get this out here, and where's your RV?"

Jack laughed, and stepped up next to the Doctor as the Time Lord inserted his key into the lock. "Seriously, Private. Come take a look." The Doctor pushed the door open, and the pair stepped inside.

Tamara and Ivan looked at each other, doubt clear and obvious in their expressions even as they moved closer. "Well, look at it this way," Tamara said to her husband as they reached the door. "At least in such a small box, it'll be easy to get your hands on Mr. Dimples to 'thank' him for the practical joke."

Ivan grunted acknowledgment of the truth of her statement. He reached past his wife with one massive hand and pushed the door further open for her, and the pair walked into the small blue box.

* * *

><p>Jack was leaning casually against the guard rail surrounding the console, arms crossed and smirking expectantly to catch the first glimpse of the expression on the faces of their new friends. He wasn't disappointed by the looks of shock and awe that swept over the pair. "Waddaya think?" he asked. The Doctor had shed his overcoat, draping it over the nearest coral strut as he passed, and even though he was pretending not to watch the newcomer's reactions, he was still smirking to himself as they entered.<p>

"Oh... my... God!" Tamara breathed, staring wide-eyed around the console room, eyes sweeping over the arching ceiling, and the flashing lights of the console. "Its... she's... absolutely beautiful!" she added reverently, turning slowly in place to take in as much as possible.

At that, the Doctor did look up in some consternation. "What? No comments on bigger on the inside?" he exclaimed. His face threatened to slide towards pout as he spoke.

"That part's kinda obvious, dontcha think?" Ivan retorted, even as he completed his own visual assessment of the console room. "I'm guessing you two aren't from around these parts, then?"

"Ah, yeah – you could say that," Jack confirmed, straightening from his artful pose. He slipped his coat off and began moving to the coat rack to hang the long garment. Noticing that Tamara hadn't moved since her initial survey of the room, and that she was now standing perfectly still with her hands clenched and eyes closed, he paused in concern.

"Tamara, you okay?"

As soon as he spoke, Ivan stepped up to his wife and gently took her arm, frowning in concern. Tamara turned towards him blindly, leaning into his massive form. Dropping her head to lean against his shoulder, she drew a deep, shuddering breath even as silent tears began to slip through her closed lids.

"Can't you feel it?" she whispered, voice rough. "Oh, God... she's so lonely. Oh, it hurts, it hurts..." She clutched tightly, almost desperately, at her husband's arm even as he wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her close in concern.

Jack pitched his coat towards the wall dismissively and began to move towards the pair even as the Doctor moved quickly away from the console towards them as well, bringing up the sonic screwdriver for a quick scan. "What do you mean?" the Doctor demanded. "Who's lonely?"

Tamara drew another deep breath that sounded very much like a sob, swallowing hard before she spoke again. "The last, the last, all alone," she whispered raggedly. "Singer, singing, songs of infinity, songs of time. Can't you hear the music? Oh, beautiful, beautiful, I can't help you, I can't... it hurts, it hurts... my heart her heart our heart is breaking it is broken oh how it hurts..." She began to sway on her feet, even as her quiet, broken words began to run together without pause for breath or hesitation. Tamara paled and swayed, becoming more unstable on her feet.

As the Doctor got closer to do a more sensitive scan, he felt a large, hard hand close on the back of his neck. With a startled cry that cut off abruptly, his feet left the deck completely as he was brought up to Ivan's eye level.

"What is happening to my wife?" Ivan growled, the angry, demanding tone reverberating in Jack's chest, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge. Ivan's eyes blazed with rage as he glared at the Doctor, giving the smaller man a teeth-rattling shake. As the Doctor gasped for breath against the restriction of his too-tight collar, Jack grabbed the big man's arm in an effort to break the hold Ivan had on the scruff of the Doctor's neck.

"Whoa! Whoa! No strangling the Doc!" Jack shouted, yanking futilely on the massive limb. "He can't help if he can't breathe!"

After a second, Ivan opened his grip and let the Doctor drop back to his feet.

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted, gasping for breath, "but I will find out. Bring her this way." He completed the quick scan with his sonic screwdriver, then began to move towards the rest of the TARDIS hallways.

Ivan slipped his rifle off his shoulder and thrust it unceremoniously at Jack, then scooped his wife into his arms without waiting to ensure the smaller man accepted the weapon. Jack caught it up and trailed behind Ivan as he followed the fast-moving form of the Doctor, pausing only long enough to leave the gun on the jump seats, out of the way.

Jack had assumed that the Doctor was leading them to the medical bay, but his assumption was curbed when the frantic party rushed past the familiar entrance. Instead, the Doctor lead them to a door that Jack didn't recall having seen before, and in to a room of solid white. As the door closed behind the quartet, Tamara gasped more deeply, and her distress immediately began to lessen.

"You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?" Ivan snarled, his voice primal, animalistic. He squeezed his wife's lax body protectively against his chest while she continued to relax from the previous height of tension.

The Doctor frowned in concern, scanning her once more with the sonic device. "It would seem there is a bit more to your charming wife than one would first realize," he answered, voice pensive. "Humans aren't normally so responsive to the TARDIS' psychic field."

Tamara began to push against Ivan's chest, indicating her desire to be let down once more. With infinite tenderness, Ivan lowered his wife's feet to the floor, holding her shoulders until he was certain she was secure in her balance. "I'm okay now, honey," she assured him, patting his hands reassuringly. "I'm all right."

"What happened?" he growled once more, staring intently into her eyes.

She smiled wanly. "You know I've always been... sensitive, for lack of a better word. You've seen it in action. When we walked in, I could hear... I don't know what it was." Tamara sighed, scrubbing her hands over her face as though to wipe away her thoughts.

"It was a voice that wasn't a voice, singing that wasn't music... I can't describe it." She heaved a deep breath and walked to the side of the room, slumping down to the floor to lean against the wall. "Man, I'm exhausted. It just felt... like all the sadness in the universe just got crammed forcibly into my head."

The Doctor reviewed the information he'd retrieved with his screwdriver as Ivan moved to sit beside his wife so she could slump tiredly against his shoulder. "I am very sorry about that," the Doctor replied absently. "Your brain is exceptional, by the way. You were hearing the TARDIS directly, something that up until this moment I would have said was impossible. The TARDIS is linked to me, and only myself or another of my people should be able to hear her so clearly."

"So what are you? For that matter, what is _she_?" Tamara demanded, offering the Doctor a somewhat halfhearted glare. She looked completely wrung out and exhausted.

The Doctor looked up from the scan he was reviewing and grinned manically. "I'm a Time Lord!" he exclaimed brightly. "This frankly magnificent vessel surrounding you is my TARDIS – Time And Relative Dimension In Space – my ship. You are correct, we aren't from around here. Well, Jack sort of is, in a genetic sense. He's at least human. Well, mostly. As human as you can be 30 centuries from now. The TARDIS travels through time and space, and she normally keeps a low-level psychic link to the crew and passengers, but in all the millennia we've traveled together, I've never seen her try to link so intensely with anyone but me. Most people aren't even aware of her presence."

Tamara leaned her head back against the white wall behind her, and closed her eyes. Reaching up with one hand, she patted the wall just above her head. "I'm sure it was an accident," she said. "I know she didn't mean any harm."

"So what made it stop?" Jack asked, studying the exhausted woman curiously.

"This place did," the Doctor explained. "This is the Zero Room – a psychically null space within the TARDIS. I like to come here directly after regenerating sometimes to give the ol' synapses a chance to settle. Give the TARDIS a few moments to get used to you being on board, and I'm sure you'll be right as rain. Right as rain, oooh, that's a fun phrase. Right as rain. Who determines what rain is right, and which is wrong? Rrrrright. Rrrrrain. Oooh, that's just fun."

"Doc, focus." Jack nudged the skinny man beside him. "Zero Room?"

"Right! Right. Few minutes in here, get yourself back on an even keel, good cuppa, maybe, you'll be back to normal in no time! Jack, why don't you come to the kitchen with me and help me get the tea ready?" Jack gave a short nod in acknowledgment, and the Doctor turned back to the pair on the floor. "Ivan-"

"Will stay right here with his wife," Ivan snarled cutting the Doctor off in mid-sentence.

The Doctor nodded, and continued on smoothly. "Why don't you stay here and keep an eye on Tamara? We'll only be a few minutes."

Ivan frowned, and nodded. The Doctor and Jack slipped out of the neutral room and closed the door gently behind them. Striding down the hall, Jack stared at the Doctor as they walked.

"What the heck, Doc? What was that?"

The Doctor scowled. "I have no idea. It was almost like the TARDIS was trying to force a receptive bond on her – which in the history of Time Lords has never been done."

"What, never?" Jack marveled.

"Not to my knowledge. Forming a bond with a TARDIS is a delicate process. Their sentience is far beyond even what a Time Lord can completely comprehend. Most Time Lords would rather die than admit that they don't fully understand the way a TARDIS works, but I have absolutely no problem in stating that a TARDIS mentality is the only truly alien thought process I have ever encountered." The duo entered the small kitchen, and the Doctor moved on automatic, assembling the necessary items to make tea. Jack moved to procure a pot of coffee, his preferred beverage of choice.

Hands moving on automatic, the Doctor's movements slowed as he drifted in thought. "I didn't think I would be able to form a complete bond with my TARDIS," he admitted. "We weren't exactly introduced to each other through a normal bonding ritual, after all."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, considering you stole her, I can see that. So does that mean she's been waiting to form a proper bond all this time?"

The Doctor waved the suggestion away dismissively. "Hardly. Eventually, the old girl accepted a bond with me – otherwise, we'd have been dead in the water centuries ago. No, I have no idea what just happened with the lovely Mrs. Makenzie. Once I've had a chance to study the scans, I may be able to figure it out."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments as each focused on their tasks at hand before Jack spoke once more. "How's your throat?"

Clearing his throat briefly, the Doctor traced one finger around the inside of his collar absently. "It's fine. Just startled me a bit."

Jack suppressed a small smirk. "Told you a necktie was a bad idea with your lifestyle," he muttered.

"Hmph." The Doctor assembled the pot of tea and associated mugs onto a small tray as Jack added a carafe of coffee. They moved back towards the Zero Room without further conversation.

* * *

><p>Tamara and Ivan were right where the Doctor and Jack had left them, slumped against the wall of the Zero Room, Tamara's head resting on Ivan's shoulder. Letting the door swing closed once more, Jack lowered himself gracefully to the slightly padded floor with the tray of drinks, allowing the Doctor to flop in a sprawl beside them.<p>

"Feeling better?" he asked Tamara.

With a slight nod, she sat up straight and opened her eyes once more. "Much. I'm still not exactly sure what happened."

The Doctor shrugged sheepishly. "Neither am I – but I can assure you, it won't happen again. Now that the TARDIS has gotten over the shock of meeting you, there won't be a repeat. Whenever you feel up to it, you should be fine to leave whenever you're ready." He absently fixed his cup of tea, and slid the tray closer to his guests.

"For your sake, hope that doesn't happen again," Ivan growled.

The Doctor waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, no, no... not at all. She'll be fine, absolutely fine."

"Don't fret so, Ivan," Tamara scolded. "It was a complete accident. I think the TARDIS was as surprised to find me here as I was to experience...that. Whatever you want to call it." She gratefully prepared a mug of coffee for herself even as Ivan fixed his tea. They each fell silent as they sipped, and Tamara regained much-needed equilibrium.

"Pinstripes, I realize this is a very personal question," Tamara began suddenly, "but after your ship tried to mind-rape me, I feel like I'm entitled to ask a few personal questions."

The Doctor straightened in indignation at the statement and started to protest, but Tamara continued speaking and over road his protest before he could speak. "I just kept getting this overwhelming feeling of loneliness from your ship. What's that all about? Is she homesick or something? Prototype machine, maybe?"

At her questions, which the Doctor knew he should have been expecting, he felt his shoulders slump in dejection. "No, she's not a prototype. She's just the last of her kind, just like me. Our world was destroyed in a war. A war with the Daleks."

Ivan grunted, a sound of acknowledgment and understanding. "So that's why you're so set on taking on the Daleks by yourself," he stated. The Doctor could only nod.

"It's my fault they still exist, my fault we went to war, and my fault my people are all gone. It should be my responsibility to track them down and see that they can't spread their evil any longer."

"Aren't you just the arrogant sod?" Ivan snorted derisively. "Maybe you did have something to do with the war happening, but last time I checked it took at least two sides to make a war. Any less than that, and it's called a conquest."

The Doctor glared at the big man. "You don't understand," he snapped.

"You're right, I don't," Ivan agreed. "An' I hope I never do. I can't judge whether or not you have any responsibility for what happened – all I'm sayin' is that it's impossible for you t' have sole responsibility for what happened. Takes two t' tango, takes two t' fight."

"Give it up, Pinstripes," Tamara interrupted the pair. "Arguing with Ivan is like arguing with a tree stump. You can do it, but by the time you're ready to declare a winner, you'll be too tired to care anymore." She drained the last of her coffee, then looked over at her husband.

"We ready to go home?" she asked.

Ivan nodded, and downed the last tea in his mug before placing it back on the tray. "Thanks for the tea. Good blend," he stated. With a grace that belied his size, Ivan flowed up onto his feet and extended one massive hand down to pull his wife up beside him. Jack and the Doctor scrambled to their feet to join them.

Tamara paused before opening the door to leave the room. Ivan slipped a comforting arm around her shoulder, letting her take her own time to be ready to step out into the corridor. "You should be fine now," the Doctor reassured her. "The TARDIS won't be as surprised by you this time."

Tamara took a deep breath. "I understand that," she assured him. "Doesn't mean I'm not still nervous." With that, she opened the door and stepped into the corridor, Ivan at her side.

She paused, and took another deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes.

"How do you feel?" Ivan asked.

"I can still feel her," Tamara replied. "But more like background noise now. She's still so very lonely, but now I can also feel a strong current of contrition." She reached out and stroked one hand along the corridor wall.

"Tell her you forgiver her, I," Tamara ordered.

Ivan grumbled, frowning. "Ivan. You know it was an accident. Just like all the times those furred menaces you call babies bight the snot out of me, and you call it playing. I always forgive them, you can tell her you forgive her," Tamara snapped.

Rolling his eyes, but wisely conceding defeat, Ivan sighed, and reached over his wife's head to pat the corridor wall with surprising gentleness. "All right, all right, I admit it – I realize it was an accident, an' you didn't mean no harm. I forgive you," he muttered.

"Thank you, honey. Now let's go home." Tamara began walking down the corridor, and lead the quartet unerringly to the console room.

"Huh." Jack marveled, looking around. "It took me being on board a week before I could get back here in one try."

Tamara smirked at him. Ivan retrieved his rifle from the jump seat, and moved towards the main door. "Who knows, Mr. Dimples," she remarked. "Maybe she just likes me better." She waved at the pair left behind as she and her husband walked out the door.

"Not possible!" Jack called after them, laughing. After the door closed, he turned back to the Doctor.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting visit," he quipped.

"Jack, I believe that may actually qualify as an understatement from you," the Doctor replied. He moved over to his normal work station at the console, and began transferring information from his sonic screwdriver to the main display.

"Unless you're tired, I suggest you start helping me analyze these scans," the Doctor told Jack. "I would very much like to know what is here that has drawn the Daleks, preferably before they make their move."

Jack moved to mirror the Doctor at another station, transferring data from his wrist device. "I'm with you, Doc," he confirmed. "Surely we can find something between the two of us."

"Let's hope so. And please stop calling me 'Doc'."

Without looking up, Jack smirked. He had been wondering how long he'd be able to get away with the nickname before the Doctor finally broke and said something.

* * *

><p>The next day found Jack and the Doctor wandering their way back through town shortly after the sun had risen above the horizon. As they came in sight of Tube Steak Alley, Jack could see patrons coming and going from the small diner, and grinned. "Doc, I'm going to grab some breakfast. Why don't I meet you at the school when I'm done?"<p>

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Fine, Jack. Please don't start any fights or pick up any underage girls today."

Jack held up his hands defensively. "I'll be on my best behavior, I promise! I have no desire to see if my regeneration will stand up to Ivan twisting my head off."

The Doctor had to smother a snicker at Jack's pronouncement. As the two men's paths separated, the Doctor picked up his pace and jogged slowly through town as Jack opened the door to the diner and walked in.

"Mr. Dimples!" Suzie exclaimed brightly, waving at him from behind the counter. "What can I get for you this morning?"

Jack couldn't help but smile back at the exuberant young lady. "Good morning, Miss Suzie," he replied with a slight bow. "I would love another cup of your fabulous coffee, and whatever you suggest for a good breakfast. And you can call me Jack, if you like." He sat down at the long counter, resting his elbows comfortably on the surface while Suzie brought him a porcelain mug, and filled it with coffee from the pot in her other hand. "So why aren't you in school today?" he asked.

She gave him a very unladylike snort and an expressive roll of her eyes. "Not in school? Oh, trust me, I'll be in school. I'm just doing the early breakfast shift here for another half-hour before I have to head to class." Leaning on her elbows, she cast an appraising look over Jack as he slumped casually against the diner's counter. "So what are you doing here all on your own?"

Jack grinned. "Just waiting for Ivan and Tamara, young lady. They're going to show me around while the Doctor is spending the day with Mr. Tesla."

"Oooh! That outta be fun!" Suzie exclaimed. "I'm in Mr. Tesla's advanced science class. We usually get to play with Betsy when he has a guest, and that is _so_ much fun!" the blonde teenager was all but bouncing with excitement at the news. "Hang on a sec, and I'll get your breakfast ordered in!" The tall, athletic girl danced away, almost skipping, and shouted something back through the serving window that Jack didn't catch. He figured that no matter what it was she was ordering, he'd be able to survive the experience intact.

While Suzie waited on other customers, Jack sipped his coffee and thought about what was going on in the small, anonymous town around him. He wondered what could be affecting all the people that lived here, and how that was influencing the Daleks' presence in the area. It seemed only moments passed before Suzie was back and sliding three plates onto the counter in front of him. "Good grief!" Jack exclaimed, eyeing the mountain of food. "Just how much do you think I can eat?"

Suzie grinned unrepentantly at him. "I ordered the Big Farmer breakfast for you. I figure if you're going to keep up with Tam and me today, you're going to need all your strength, big fella!" she winked saucily at him, and Jack had to laugh.

Arrayed before him was a variety of recognizable foodstuffs – the ham, sausage and bacon were easy, as were the two eggs glaring back at him like reproachful eyes. However, the pool of white substance oozing on the plate beside them was a complete mystery – and he'd never really understood potatoes at breakfast. He picked up his fork and poked suspiciously at the white substance.

"Okay, everything here is pretty familiar – but what the heck is this stuff?" He'd seen alien artifacts at the Torchwood hub that were more comprehensible than the item on the breakfast plate.

Suzie giggled. "Those are grits, goofy!"

"Grit? Why on earth would anyone eat grit?" Jack exclaimed.

Suzie laughed outright at his reaction. "Not grit – grits; plural. It's a grain. Try it! It's best with butter and salt – but then, what isn't improved by adding butter?"

Jack's thoughts turned inward for a moment, and his grin drifted toward lascivious before he gave himself a shake and brought himself back to the present. "I have to say my experience supports your hypothesis," he replied. Dutifully, he added two pats of butter and a dash of salt to the 'grits' on his plate, and after stirring them in under Suzie's watchful eye, tried his first taste.

She grinned expectantly at him. "Great, aren't they?" she demanded.

Keeping his lips tightly closed, Jack smiled and hummed in agreement. A snort at his side drew his attention, and he glanced over to find Tamara standing at his elbow, smirking. "Suzie, go finish your tables. You need to be heading for school soon," Tamara told her. The blonde girl smiled and bounced away, and Tamara smirked at Jack.

"Y' may as well swallow. You strike me as the kind of man who's had weirder things in his mouth," Tamara told him in a low voice.

Jack nearly snorted the mouthful of grits out through his nose, but managed to choke down the mouthful. "And you people eat that?" he finally gasped.

Tamara shrugged. "It's an acquired taste. Some people never cultivate a liking for them. So what are you up to today, Mr. Dimples?"

Jack started in on the parts of his breakfast he recognized, noting absently the sudden addition of a plate of hot biscuits that Suzie dropped off in passing. Tamara snagged one of the biscuits and a sausage patty off of Jack's plate as she boosted herself onto the stool next to his. "Thought I'd tag along with you today, if you don't mind. The Doctor is a bit calmer today after meeting with Nick yesterday, but he's still a nervous wreck. Can't say I actually blame him – I've had a couple of run-ins with the Daleks before, and they are nasty business. But I think you folks have a good handle on the situation. I just wanna be here to lend a hand if it's needed."

"Hey, nothing wrong with pitching in. Ivan has already headed to the school to ride herd on your manic friend. If you'll finish up, we can walk Suzie to class when she finishes her shift." Tamara stole a piece of bacon, then sauntered toward the register to settle up.

Chuckling slightly, Jack wolfed down his breakfast as quickly as was comfortable, spreading the grits around to hide the fact that he really didn't have time to – and just couldn't – acquire a taste for them at the moment. Tamara walked back towards him with Suzie, who had discarded her apron and added a backpack. Together, the three walked out the door of the small diner.

"Are you going to sit in our classes with us, Mr. Jack?" she asked excitedly. "That is so totally cool! You can be my lab partner. I can show you what we've been studying with Betsy – you'll love it! I love Mr. Tesla's class. It's my favorite class. I'm so glad I was able to place into it!" Jack smiled, and let the enthusiastic girl's voice roll over him. He was fairly sure that at some point in his dimly remembered youth he'd been that frenetic, but if so it was so long ago and far away he couldn't remember it. He let her vigor and energy buoy him through the walk through town. Jack nodded in greeting to the Cobb brothers and their cronies as they passed; Emmett winked back, and Everette scowled fiercely.

Suzie's chatter carried them all the way to the school; she didn't notice that the two adults with her never spoke during her teenage monologue. With a bright smile and a backward wave, she darted off to her first class while Tamara led Jack through the school back to the trailers that housed the science department. "Does she ever get tired?" Jack asked, casting a look in the direction in which Suzie had disappeared.

"Not that I've ever seen," Tamara replied. "I have to assume that she keeps talking even while she's asleep." Jack snorted in response.

Just as they were about to reach the door to the classroom trailer, there was a loud "bang!" of noise and the door was wrenched open, issuing forth a cloud of white smoke. Before either of them could move, the Doctor appeared at the door, fanning the smoke away with one flailing hand. "Perfectly all right!" he exclaimed, looking back into the classroom. "That happens once in a while, no problem at all!"

His statement was greeted by whoops of laughter from the assembled students, and Nick joined him at the door, laughing. "At least I'm not the only person to make something go boom in the lab!" he laughed. "Although you're the first person I've seen do that with a beaker of water."

The Doctor planted his fists on his hips, glaring in indignation. "It wasn't just simply water anymore," he corrected adamantly. "By changing the molecular structure-"

"You made water go boom?" Jack interrupted, heading off what would have been an hour long lecture from the Time Lord.

The Doctor whipped around to glare at Jack. "It did not go boom!" he insisted. "It was more of a... bawoomph."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, right. So have you blown up anything else in the.. what is it, two hours that you've been here?"

The Doctor humphed. "No, thank you very much." He turned and stalked back into the classroom, and Jack and Tamara moved to follow him.

The smoke – or steam, as it happened to be – had cleared completely from the room, leaving the four adults facing a classroom of 25 smiling youths, somewhat younger than Suzie. "You kids having a good time entertaining Pinstripes here?" Tamara asked as she surveyed the children.

"Yes, Miss Tamara!" they chorused back.

"You realize you were supposed to keep him from blowing anything important off, right?" she continued.

"I don't think there are enough of us to stop him if he was serious, Miss Tamara," one of the children called back saucily.

"Probably true," Tamara agreed before turning back to the Doctor and Nick Tesla. "Has Ivan shown up yet?"

Nick nodded. "He was here earlier, before the Doctor arrived, and said he was going to check on the Daleks briefly. You know he feels better with an eyes-on assessment of what they're doing."

"Yeah, I know. He never has trusted much technology above gunpowder level," Tamara mused, acknowledging what Nick was saying.

"He should be back any time now, actually," Nick said, walking over to the computer that was dedicated to monitoring the Dalek encampment. With a few keystrokes, he brought up the live feed on the small terminal. After a few seconds, however, he frowned in confusion. "Well, that's unusual," he muttered.

Immediately, the Doctor and Jack were on point, both moving towards the slender scientist. "Unusual?" the Doctor asked. "How so?"

Nick's concerned gaze shifted to the Doctor's face. "None of the Daleks are showing up on camera. Normally, you can see them all meandering around the clearing, working on different tasks. Now, none of them are out and about within camera range."

"Oh, that can't be good," Jack muttered. He moved around behind Nick to stare at the screen. "Can you back the recording up a few hours? Maybe we can see what happened."

"Not a problem," Nick agreed, hands moving once more to the keyboard. The students were quiet as they watched the adults working, the silence taut with anticipation and building excitement.

As the sound of rapid keystrokes rattled through the room, the door to the classroom was suddenly thrust open with a loud bang as it crashed into the interior wall, and Ivan leaned through. "Trashcans on the move," he snarled, gaze locking immediately on his wife. "Headed this way."

Nick brought his hands together with a sharp retort, drawing the classroom's attention back to him. "All righty, then!" he exclaimed. "Kids, you know the drill. Get moving! Monica, alert Principal Edwards. She'll know what to do."

As though it had been choreographed and rehearsed, the students rose together and filed calmly out the door past Ivan, chattering excitedly to each other. One young girl waved an acknowledgment at her instructor and split off from the rest of the group, sprinting towards the main part of the school.

"Where are they going?" Jack asked.

"The roof. The school itself is structurally reinforced; we decided that, with the Devil's Trashcans' – Daleks' – limited mobility, the children would be safest on the roof, which should limit the ability of those things to reach them. Principal Edwards will alert the fire department, who will alert the rest of the town to mobilize. Most of the towns folks will get to safety, but the few people who will be helping stop the advance of your Daleks need to get in position." As Nick was explaining, he was also pulling Betsy out of the storage cupboard, and moving the big machine towards the door. Ivan had stood aside for the students exiting the trailer, but stepped up to help Nick negotiate the cumbersome machine out the door.

"What exactly are you expecting to do with that?" Jack asked of the slender scientist.

Nick offered him a manic grin, a gleam of excitement reflected in his bright eyes. "I plan to defend my turf!" Nick exclaimed, his accent thickening. "I dare any of those things to try to come into _my_ school!"

Ivan helped the excited teacher guide the bulky machine out of the classroom and across the courtyard of the four trailers, navigating bumpily across the littered concrete and around the school. The Doctor, Jack and Tamara trailed along behind.

Before the group could reach the front of the school, there was a peculiar whooping sound that repeated in a three-tone cycle throughout the school. Immediately, there was an explosion of young voices chattering as classrooms emptied, and children began making their way towards the stairs. Even with the expected amount of horseplay that spread through the group of youths, they gave the hurrying adults a wide berth as they attempted to clear the building with the cumbersome Vandergraft Generator. Grim-faced teachers did their best to ride herd on the over-excited children, and keep them moving towards the roof and out of the way of the concerned adults.

In the distance, echoing from the direction of town, Jack and the Doctor heard a siren mimicking the three-note cycle of the school's alarm, a sound that they had to assume came from the fire department to alert the townsfolk. "Ivan, you need to get to downtown," Tamara called to her husband over the noise of the surrounding crowd. "I can help Nick here; you go make sure everybody's prepared!"

"I'll help," Jack called. "Doctor, stay here with Nick and Tamara."

"What!" the Doctor exclaimed, jerking upright into a stiff posture and glaring at his dark-haired companion. "I most certainly will not! I have to stop the Daleks!"

Jack also stopped helping to guide Betsy further around the school, and did something he very rarely did. Grabbing the Doctor by his upper arms, he gave the mighty Time Lord a teeth-rattling shake. "Doctor! There are children here! You planning to leave them vulnerable to the Daleks, with only Nick and Tamara to stop them? Depending on which way the Daleks take to reach town, they will either miss the school completely, or come right by here. Ivan and I can get the adults off the street and out of the way – but somebody has to protect these kids!" He gave the Doctor a second, gentler shake for emphasis. "Use that brain of yours, Doc."

The Doctor glared momentarily at Jack, then almost seemed to collapse in upon himself as he saw the logic of Jack's words. "You're right. I can do more to help here, if they should come this far. Go. We'll catch up with you when we know the school is safe." The Doctor gripped Jack's wrists briefly as he pulled the Captain's hands away from his shoulders.

Jack gave one sharp nod, then turned to lope after the much taller Ivan as he strode towards town. Jack's coat tails snapped behind him like a flag as he sprinted to catch up, then continued to flutter as he jogged to match pace with Ivan. The Doctor turned back to offer a lopsided smile to Tamara and Nick.

"So, Dr. Tesla," he began. "What's your plan?"

The grin that Nick offered in return was filled with mischief and mayhem. "I don't know if it'll work, but it ought to be entertaining!"

* * *

><p>When Jack and Ivan reached downtown, they found the streets all but deserted. Four men in various pieces of firefighter uniforms were moving the tanker truck to block the main street while other similarly dressed men were dispersing down the street with different pieces of equipment that ranged from fire axes to what looked like a jackhammer. Jack spotted the Cobb crew seated in their normal rockers, watching the activity around them with sharp gazes. Jack raced up to them, panting to catch his breath.<p>

"You men really need to get off the street," he gasped out. "It isn't safe."

Everette turned his steely gaze on Jack. "Listen here, Yankee-boy," he all but snarled. "I didn't run when that upstart Sherman come through these parts, I hain't runnin' now. We don't let nobody threaten our homes. Not nobody." The other old men nodded and muttered their agreement.

Jack huffed out a frustrated breath. "Mr. Cobb, the Daleks aren't like Union soldiers. You can't possibly-"

"Mister? Boy, do I look like an officer to you?" Everett cut him off. From beside his chair, he pulled a rifle across his lap, the barrel longer than the old man was tall. "Now git. Yer spoilin' m' shot."

The four other men also produced weapons, ranging from Ezekiel's shotgun to another long-barreled rifle held by Elias Cobb, the twin to the gun held by Everett.

Ivan appeared behind Jack. "Move along, Dimples," he growled. "These old bastards can take care of themselves."

"But-" Jack tried to protest. Ivan simply placed one massive hand between Jack's shoulder blades and propelled him forcibly down the street.

"Those old men are better shots than me," he grumped. "Nick just didn't have the equipment to make rounds for those antiques they call rifles."

Jack stumbled to keep his balance, but kept moving with Ivan, glancing back once at the old men who were watching down the street. The firemen had dispersed once the truck was in position, crouched in teams of two or three in the mouths of the alleys that led up to where the truck was positioned.

Ivan led Jack down a side alley, and quickly up a fire escape to the second floor. Jack couldn't help but marvel at how agile the big man was as he swarmed nimbly up the metal rungs without a sound. The landing of the fire escape let them move over to a balcony that overlooked the street and the most likely approach for the Daleks. Ivan unslung his Mauser and stretched out, sighting down the barrel towards the empty street.

"Now, we wait," he muttered.

* * *

><p>The Doctor helped Nick move Betsy to the front of the school, positioning the awkward machine on the sidewalk at the foot of the steps, directly in front of the main doors. Nick glanced up at the Doctor as he pulled on the gloves for the machine. "Take a position at the top of the stairs with Tamara," he instructed. "If they come here and manage to get up the steps, you two will have to keep them out of the building."<p>

Before the Doctor could respond, a grim-faced older woman exited the building and began descending towards them. "Dr. Tesla. Is everything in place?" she asked as she approached. Almost as tall as the Doctor himself, the woman had steel- gray hair cut in a short, severe style, and was wearing a three-piece black business suit and matching tie that set off the snow-white shirt under the dark jacket.

"I'm ready, Principal Edwards," he answered. "This is the Doctor, by the way. He's a friend of Tamara."

Principal Edwards extended her hand to the Doctor. "Good to meet you. Please stay out of the way. We want no further casualties around here."

Her manner was brisk and no-nonsense, but the Doctor felt no animosity from the woman. "I'm only here to help, Principal Edwards," he said. "I've had quite a bit of experience facing the Daleks."

"Help is always appreciated, but don't interfere with our established plan of attack. You could disrupt actions we've already planned and coordinated. Should those fail, however, please feel free to step in and improvise."

The Doctor offered a gamin grin. "Improvisation is what I'm best at."

"Then if you'll retire to the portico with me, we shall await the next part of the adventure," she responded. Edwards began walking sedately up the steps to where Tamara waited. The Doctor was carried along in the wake of her personality. There were only a few steps separating the small, raised concrete platform from the sidewalk where Nick waited with Betsy, and the street that stretched past the somewhat isolated building. The platform to which Edwards led the Doctor was fronted by two tall concrete pillars that held up a small roof that shielded the main entrance to the school from inclement weather. Tamara was crouched beside the pillar to the right of the entrance, down on one knee with her rifle braced across the other knee. The Doctor glanced at the gun before looking up to meet her eyes, and Tamara shrugged.

"Yeah, I know the bullets won't get past the plating on those things – but it's like a security blanket. Makes me feel better to have it handy."

"You Americans and your obsession with guns," the Doctor tchd disapprovingly. Then he shrugged to himself. "Well, all humans, really. Even Jack, and you'd think he'd know better by now."

Tamara snorted a laugh. "C'mon now, Pinstripes," she chided. "Millenia of human history, and the only thing that has remained consistent is the ever-present desire to find a rock and bash your neighbor in the head with it. You actually sound surprised that millenia from now, the same thing will hold true. The monkey never falls far from the tree."

The Doctor looked at her in confusion. "I thought that was supposed to be an apple?"

Tamara shrugged, taking a moment to check the chamber on her rifle. "Close enough." Stiffening suddenly, and raising the rifle somewhat, she cocked her head as though listening. "Do you hear that?"

"Here they come!" Nick exclaimed brightly. He sounded excited, his voice bright and almost quivering with anticipation. Betsy the Vandergraft generator was positioned on the sidewalk, squarely in front of the main entrance to the high school, while Nick stood slightly in front of the machine, his hands in the thick black gloves that were wired to the device and his protective goggles lowered over his eyes. For a disjointed moment, the Doctor felt as though he were staring at one of his old nemesis from regenerations – if not decades, linearly – ago. He shook off the double-exposure memory and wrenched his attention back to the coming confrontation. With one agilely placed light kick, Nick flicked the machine on and even from where he was standing, the Doctor could hear the hum of electricity building. Nick brought his hands closer towards each other, and white-blue arcs of electricity sparked between the two gloves. What surprised the Doctor were the small sparks of man-made lightning that leapt from the gloves and danced along an invisible flat wall in front of the building. His gaze flicked from Nick to the machine, then down to Tamara. She smirked.

"You wouldn't notice it if you weren't looking for it," she muttered. "The kids in the machine shop laid a thin band of wire all the way around the school, with the ends meeting right where Betsy is positioned. Nick's using her to push electricity through the wire, which creates a field around the school."

The Doctor blinked. "How is that even possible?"

Tamara shrugged. "Do I look like a scientist? Ask Nick when this is all over if you really want to know."

The Doctor grumped. "That man is frighteningly brilliant."

He had no chance to speak further; the Daleks which Tamara and Nick had both heard were finally rolling into sight. From his first sight of the eight deadly silver shapes, the Doctor knew the Daleks were seriously depleted. Rather than the smooth gliding, hovering action of their normal propulsion, the Daleks were navigating the road leading to the school house where the first wave of defenders waited as though the natural detritus and typical damage of the road were nearly insurmountable obstacles. Their approach was still frighteningly quick, and within a few moments of having come in sight, the Daleks were facing off against Nick in a menacing semicircle.

"The human will surrender, and return to the vessel with us," the lead Dalek demanded, pointing his weapon directly at Nick. Even expecting to hear the menacing voices, the Doctor still couldn't suppress the shiver that crawled up his spine at hearing the mechanized, hated voice. "Any who resist or impede our withdrawal with the human will be exterminated."

Nick extended his hands out to either side of himself, black gloves quiescent as they waited for a command from him. "I'm sorry... Were you talking to me?"

"You will come with us, human. Your technology is required to restore the Daleks to optimum functionality. Resistance will be met with extermination."

"Oh, come now. Don't you fellows know anything?" Nick scoffed. "The line is supposed to be 'Resistance is futile'. And the answer is no."

The primary Dalek slid forward in advance of his compatriots, sliding closer towards Nick. "You will come with us now, human."

Nick simply grinned at the Daleks facing him. A human would have recognized the emotion behind the expression as reckless mayhem waiting to happen; Tamara would have recalled the hydrogen fiasco with a fearful shiver. The Daleks simply waited for Nick to come along quietly. Instead, he snorted a scoffing laugh. "Yeah? Make me."

The Dalek lowered his primary gun to aim at Nick's legs. With a rippling pulse of electricity, the gun discharged and a solid projectile was fired towards Nick. Inches from his knees, however, the make-shift bullet impacted the field generated by Nick, his gloves, and Betsy. Nick smirked. "Go again for a dollar! Take another shot?"

The barrel of the gun raised to point at Nick's head this time, and a second slug was discharged. Moving instinctively, Nick snapped his hand up to block or deflect the shot, and the field protecting him and the school rippled again as the slug was deflected.

"Ingenious, really," Tamara heard the Doctor mutter as he peered through his spectacles to observe the interaction. "They've adapted their regular pulse weapons to rail guns to compensate for their depleted energy reserves. That's the only thing allowing Nick to deflect whatever they're using for slugs."

After the second failed attempt to penetrate the shield, the primary Dalek withdrew to the remainders of its crew. The Daleks formed a loose circle, eye lights flashing as though they were communicating amongst themselves. The Doctor stiffened in his hiding place. "They're planning something. When one tactic doesn't work, they try another, and then another, until they find a way to get what they want."

"So these things are actually sentient, not just automatons?" Tamara asked, even as she sighted down the barrel of her rifle towards the Daleks.

"They were once a race, just like any other, until they were twisted, perverted into this abomination. Now, they have become a plague upon the other sentient races of the universe, with only one purpose in life. To destroy every living being. I've been hunting them down for years, trying to correct one horrible mistake." The Doctor felt the darkness trying to subsume him as memories twined around his mind and began to cut him off from the light.

"Focus, Pinstripes," Tamara snapped, jerking the Doctor back to reality. "We'll knock out this nest, then you can go all PTSD on me if you want. Until then, stay with me."

The Doctor snorted. "I do not have PT... Well, okay, maybe I do have, but still..."

Before he could continue his rambling diatribe, the Daleks began moving once more, spreading out into a V-shaped formation facing Nick. "You will surrender, and return to the vessel with us, human," the primary Dalek demanded.

Nick made a rude two-fingered gesture at the Dalek that the Doctor had seen before, in other surroundings, and blew a raspberry noise in response.

The Dalek swiveled to face its compatriot on its right. With an unspoken command, the second Dalek rolled forward, leveling its weapon at the school. It began to discharge rounds, each bullet stopped by the invisible force Nick was generating with his device. At each impact, the invisible field flared for a brief second – but as bullets continued to impact, the tell-tale flares became longer, brighter, and spread further.

The primary Dalek swiveled towards the invader on its left, and the third Dalek rolled forward as well, bracketing Nick on the other side. It began discharging rounds as well, the impacts marked by increasingly bright flares. Nick began to sweat, the black gloves on his hands, through which he was controlling the force field, beginning to arc small bursts of electricity. His body tensed and braced, as though he were holding back the Daleks with physical strength alone.

Finally the last round was discharged, and Nick gasped a relieved breath as the pressure eased. His relaxation was premature.

The two Daleks which had rolled forward to discharge their weapons rolled even closer, until their primary weapons came into direct contact with the energy field being generated by Nick and Betsy. Bright sparks of energy danced around the end of the metal extensions that penetrated the field. "The human will lower the shield and come with us," the Dalek that had remained behind stated once more.

Nick sighed, shaking his head. "This conversation is getting repetitive," Nick grunted. The three watching from behind the pillars could hear the beginnings of exhaustion in his voice. "You things need to move along."

"Negative. The human will come with us now."

With those words, the two Daleks framing the scientist began to discharge their previously emptied weapons, sending bursts of energy directly into the shield. With each pulse, bright sparks of blue lightning started to spread from the points of contact. As the arcs grew larger, they began to reach out to Nick and the gloves connected to Betsy.

The slight man's frame went taught, arching up onto his toes as the electricity grew in intensity, the arcing from the shield growing more continuous as the discharges continued. As the flashes became painful for the hidden observers to watch, Nick finally screamed, a raw, primal sound of pain, as electricity arced between both gloves and the metal casing of Betsy. With a solid flash of light brighter and more painful than anything before and a low 'wumpf' sound that was almost more pressure than noise, the light and noises of the Dalek attack came to an abrupt halt.

The Doctor peered from behind the shelter of the tall concrete pillar. He felt his jaw tighten, teeth grinding in anger and frustration at the sight that greeted him.

Betsy was blackened and smoking, all tell-tale lights dark, and Nick lay sprawled in a boneless heap at the base of his now-defunct device. The two Daleks that had overwhelmed the force field were both smoking as well and moving sluggishly; they'd taken down the field, but they hadn't gotten it for free.

A hatch in the front of the first Dalek's lower panels slid open, and a mechanical arm equipped with a grasping claw began to extend. "The human will be returned to our vessel. When he regains consciousness, he will affect repairs on our power systems, or he will be terminated."

Before The Doctor could vocalize his protest at the Daleks, a sharp retort that seemed to explode right next to his ear had him nearly leaping out of his skin. He whirled to face Tamara, who had risen to her full height and was sighting down the barrel of her rifle at the Dalek which had spoken. Before the echo of the first shot had faded, Tamara had taken one step forward and fired another round. As fast as she could work the bolt of the mechanism, Tamara pulled the trigger and stepped forward, an implacable force, fury almost radiating from her in palpable waves. Her bullets couldn't penetrate the hardened Dalekanium shell of the creature that was menacing the unconscious scientist, but the unrelieved force of each bullet slamming into the mechanized alien, especially in its current depleted state, forced it back a few inches with each impact.

Tamara reached the end of the current magazine a few steps short of where Nick sprawled, still unmoving. Before the Daleks could begin to regroup and move forward once more for a clear shot at her, she ejected the spent magazine, letting it fall to the pavement, slammed a fresh magazine into the rifle and began firing again. She moved forward relentlessly, her rage lending her vibrancy and strength that made her seem almost larger than normal, almost as though she were pushing the Daleks back by the force of her will alone. Fire, step, fire, step, until finally, with the sound of shots rolling like thunder over those who watched and the air starting to become thick with the stinging smell of cordite, Tamara stood defiantly over the injured scientist. "Now try to come and take him," she snarled at the Daleks, her voice rough and guttural, startling The Doctor with how inhuman she sounded.

Before the Daleks had a chance to regroup and retaliate, The Doctor sprang from concealment and went bounding down the steps to stand with Tamara. He leveled a look of black menace at the assembled creatures, swallowing down the sour taste of bile as he fought to keep his rage from overtaking him. Outnumbered and outgunned, he knew the only way to deal with these beings at this point in time was to out think them.

At the sight of the Oncoming Storm, the Daleks did recoil. "You are the one called The Doctor. You are an enemy of the Daleks. You will be exterminated."

The Doctor felt his lip curling into a disdainful sneer. "You creatures keep saying that, and yet here I am. You have one chance – and its more than I should offer you, you clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk. Leave. Now. Or I will end you. Again."

"We are the superior beings. We have the superior numbers. You will surrender the human scientist to us, and you will be exterminated."

The Doctor scoffed. "Your negotiating skills are as exemplary as always, I see. Why on earth would I be willing to surrender a human – any human – to you?"

Still maintaining a one-handed grip on her rifle, ready to fire again, Tamara knelt beside Nick, and pressed two fingers to his throat. "He's still breathing, but his pulse isn't good." In a display of strength that almost derailed The Doctor's entire frame of mind, Tamara gripped the back of Nick's trousers with her empty hand, and hefted the smaller man onto her shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"We demand the human," the Dalek repeated.

The Doctor scratched his chin, as if considering his response. "Hmmm... let me think... No! Tamara?"

"Yes, Pinstripes?" she replied.

"Run!"

Before he had completely finished forming the simple syllable, he was moving. He was pleased to note that Tamara didn't hesitate; she began moving almost simultaneously, arm clamped securely around Nick's waist to hold him in place as her long legs stretched into a ground-eating pace that The Doctor was hard pressed to match. Behind him, he could hear the Daleks begin to screech the word "Exterminate!" in their synthesized voices, and had to assume that they were being followed. At the pace the two were setting, however, they would quickly outdistance the following Daleks. He could hear the crackling discharge and subsonic whine of projectiles being launched towards them, but at the range they were able to achieve before the Daleks even began moving, there was little possibility of being hit by the unfamiliar weapons.

Within seconds, the running pair had reached the heart of the town where the firetruck and the other locals waited to withstand the Daleks. "Man down!" Tamara bellowed at the top of her lungs, still managing to startle The Doctor with her volume and the way her voice carried. Absently, he noted Jack on a balcony that overlooked the street, kneeling beside the prone form of Ivan. Jack had pulled himself somewhat erect to get a better view of the running pair, and The Doctor acknowledged him with a lifted hand.

"We're okay," he panted, loud enough for Jack and Ivan to both hear. He noted three men in firefighter uniforms running towards them, two of them carrying large toolboxes. "He's suffered severe electrical shock – the Daleks overloaded Betsy, and Nick was overcome by the feedback."

The first responders nodded, acknowledging the information they would need without slowing down. Tamara swung the unconscious man off her shoulder to lay him on the ground at the feet of the three rescue workers, who immediately began to triage the injured scientist. Low, murmured voices reached the panting pair as the trio worked.

"Hands... burned..."

"Heartbeat..."

"Injection..."

"Monitor..."

"Hospital..."

"Stable for the moment..."

"Get him off the street," one of them finally said, starting to pack his equipment back into his box. The third man produced two blankets, laying them both out on the sidewalk beside Nick. Grabbing his shoulders, he waited until one of his companions grabbed Nick's feet, and between the two of them they gently moved him over onto the make-shift stretcher.

"Get him into the diner," Tamara told them. "I don't have anything to stop those monsters with, so Pinstripes and I can keep an eye on him."

"But I have to-" the Doctor began to protest. The feel of Tamara's hand closing around his upper arm, almost spanning the entirety of his bicep, almost made him squeal with pain at the fierce grip.

"You argue with me, I will render you incapable of arguing with anyone for the next several hours," Tamara snarled, forcibly dragging the Time Lord after the retreating firefighters. "There is a plan in place that does not take you _or_ me into account. If you screw it up, you will get someone killed. You want to do something useful? Keep Nick from dying. Those Dalek things want him; I mean to make sure they are disappointed. Are we understanding one another?" The big woman propelled the shocked alien into the diner before her, fast upon the heels of the firefighters. The three rescue workers acted as though they hadn't heard Tamara's snarled words, and the Doctor was still a bit speechless with shock. As the three other men left, the Doctor plonked down into an empty seat near Nick.

"You are absolutely terrifying when you're angry," the Doctor finally said.

Tamara snorted, and grinned at him. "Angry? Pinstripes, that was just me being a little annoyed. You haven't even remotely seen me angry yet."

The Doctor was fairly certain he didn't want to, if that wasn't anger he had just witnessed. Tamara moved back towards the entrance of the diner, staying back far enough that she couldn't be seen from the street, but peering towards the direction from which the Daleks would be coming momentarily.

"So, Pinstripes..." she began, calling his attention back to her once more.

"Yes?"

"_Wizard of Oz_? Really?" she turned a skeptical gaze on him, one brow arched. "_That_ was your idea of a confrontational speech?"

The Doctor huffed. "Where exactly do you think Baum got the idea from? I told him people would think he was crazy if he tried to tell them what really happened. I never dreamed he'd turn it into a children's book."

Tamara snorted, and turned once more to face the street, waiting.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before the mechanical sounds of the Daleks could be heard by those who were waiting. The eight Daleks, two badly damaged by their discharge into the energy field bringing up the rear, one with a slight dent in the front panel just below its eyestalk, rolled into the main street of town, trundling forward and scanning the surrounding buildings. From where they crouched, Jack and Ivan had a clear view of the approaching creatures. The Cobb brothers and their cronies continued to rock idly in their chairs as they watched the metal monstrosities with bland interest, the only visible humans on the street. The porch upon which the old men sat was one building over from the one on which Jack and Ivan waited, so they had an unobstructed view of the four Daleks that rolled up to confront the old men.<p>

"You will surrender the human scientist," the primary Dalek demanded.

"Damn Yankees," Everett snarled, spitting at the Dalek that faced them. "Think you can come in here and take what you want. Git! Ya dang tin can!"

"You will be exterminated."

Ezekiel Waitte stood from his chair, shotgun cradled across the crook of his left elbow, right hand near the trigger, and glared at the four Daleks before them with fevered eyes. "'And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given to them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.' Fear us, for we are as death to you!" he intoned, his deep, slow voice taking on a ringing echo as he spoke.

As he finished speaking, Ivan began to fire at the four machines facing the old men. He worked the bolt of the Mauser in his hands so quickly, so smoothly, that if Jack hadn't been beside him to watch he would have been convinced the rifle had been fitted as an automatic. Ivan was firing the special rounds that Nick had created for them, and as one bullet struck home on each Dalek, small, intense bursts of light appeared on each shell. Smoke began to rise from the point of impact and the Daleks voices shrieked loudly in consternation as they spun to locate this new adversary. Everett, Emmett and Elias Cobb all brought their rifles up to their shoulders in perfect synchronicity, as though they had choreographed the movement their entire lives. As soon as the holes made in the Dalek casings became visible, each man picked a target.

Emmett worked the lever on his carbine smoothly, placing seven shots neatly within the large hole burned into the Dalek. "Hah! Tol' you the Spencer was the best!" he crowed triumphantly.

Everett snorted derisively, sighting down the length of his long rifle. He pulled the trigger and was immediately engulfed in a cloud of black powder smoke. Even from where he was crouched with Ivan, Jack could hear the peculiar 'splank-ptang' of ricocheting lead and the shriek of Dalek voice abruptly cut off. "Guess ya'd need seven shots if'n ya can't do it with one."

The third Dalek in line was still swiveling wildly, trying to locate the source of the first shots. It took Elias longer than his older and younger brother to line up the shot he wanted, but after only a few seconds longer than they had taken, he pulled the trigger. His shot was answered by a flat sounding 'tank', and Elias cursed roundly. "Missed!" he snapped.

The Dalek swiveled its gun to face the middle Cobb brother. "Exterminate!"

Before the Dalek could act, Ezekiel whipped his shotgun down to target the Dalek and pulled the trigger on both barrels. There was an all-mighty roar and flash from the muzzle, and the spangled sound of metal-on-metal impact. As the smoke cleared, Jack gaped at the small pieces of metal that were now imbedded in the Dalek. He saw Everett push himself to his feet, standing taller and straighter than he would have credited possible for the little old man. With movements almost faster than Jack could follow, Everett produced a powder horn, shot, rag and rod and reloaded his rifle, the length almost greater than the man's own height. The entire action had been smoother and faster than Jack could have changed the power-pack from his own blaster. If Daleks could stagger, the damaged one before the old men was reeling. Continuing the smooth movements of his reload process, Everett brought the long rifle up, aimed and fired. Again came the distinctive sound of metal ricocheting inside the Dalek, the cut-off shriek of indignation, and the Dalek stilled. Jack's amazed gaze slid to the fourth Dalek, only to see that it was still and smoldering. "What-what-what..."

"Put two rounds in that one," Ivan grunted, reloading his gun. "Knew if I gave the old men an opening for the other three, they'd take it." The first contact between the locals and the Daleks had been complete from beginning to end in less than 30 seconds. In the sudden absence of sound after the rapid sound of gunfire, the four old men who had fired took the time to reload, then resettle themselves into their rocking chairs.

"You 'n yer damn fancy gun," Everett grumped. Emmett just smirked.

* * *

><p>Jack dropped back to crouch beside Ivan where he still lay prone on the limited cover provided by the balcony. "What did Zeke shoot that thing with?" Jack whispered, scanning the smoke-shrouded street below for the shapes of the moving Daleks.<p>

Ivan made a noise deep in his chest, a non-verbal sound of consideration. "Ezekiel loads his own shells," Ivan grumbled. "Gave him a couple hands full of Trash Can scraps were too small for Nick to work with." Jack choked out a snorted laugh at his words.

"Maybe that's been our problem all along; we've been trying to find more and more advanced ways to stop the Daleks, when we should have been looking for more primitive answers," Jack mused. The remaining four Daleks had learned a valuable lesson from the demise of their compatriots, and were taking a more cautious approach. At the moment, none of them were in sight.

Ivan grumbled. "There is no technology so advanced that it cannot be disrupted by the proper application of a stick." Jack chuckled quietly in response, eyes constantly scanning the deserted street for movement.

Suddenly, he pointed down the street. "There!" he hissed. He'd caught the jerky movements of a lone Dalek that was moving into the main part of the street.

"I see him, but I don't have the shot," Ivan muttered, sighting down the barrel of his rifle.

Jack felt himself tense, waiting to see what had happened. The first four had been handled quickly and efficiently, but Jack also had to admit, they'd gotten lucky to get the first shots in. Even at such reduced strength, the Daleks were nothing to be trifled with. As the metal menace moved closer, obviously hesitant to advance without first finding and disabling whatever had removed his four compatriots, Jack could feel his tension spiraling higher and higher as he waited for Ivan to take his shot.

The big man beside him never had a chance to make the shot. Without warning, a man equally as tall as Tamara, dressed in a gray t-shirt with a firetruck logo, the pants of a firefighter's uniform held up with red suspenders, came charging out of a side alley with a bulky piece of equipment slung over his shoulder, a shorter, similarly dressed man keeping pace behind him, carrying the bulk of a cable on one shoulder and a vaguely funnel-shaped device under the other arm.

As the tall, broad-shouldered firefighter swung the heavy equipment down and slammed it into the Dalek's dome, Jack finally realized that the man was wielding a hydraulic drill as easily as most people would swing a bat. He bellowed wordlessly as he activated the drill and leaned into its vibrating weight. Sparks began to throw out from the point of contact, and even as the Dalek tried to spin and throw the firefighter off, the tall man held firm and kept the drill in place.

"Tamara?" Jack asked, even knowing the answer. Ivan nodded.

"Shaped the drill bit soon as she figured out how," he confirmed.

"So what's the other guy holding?" Jack kept watching the shorter man who shadowed the tall firefighter and his drill, moving in perfect step with him as he struggled with the bucking Dalek.

"Fire ants," was Ivan's simple reply.

Before Jack could ask for clarification, the massive hydraulic drill finished penetrating the Dalekanium shell, and with a triumphant roar, the first firefighter jerked the equipment free and spun away from the flailing Dalek.

Even as the Dalek kept turning to confront the human that had assaulted it, the smaller man leapt forward with his odd device, and jammed the narrow end into the hole created by the drill. There was a dull metallic clang as the contraption attached itself to the Dalek, and the shorter man pressed a button attached to the widest part of the device. The whirring sound of a small fan reached Jack's ears, and he turned a confused look on the smirking Ivan.

"And this will do what?" Jack prompted.

Ivan chuckled, the sound dark and almost evil. "Know anything about fire ants?" he countered.

Jack shook his head, watching the Dalek as it spun sporadically in place. "Only anecdotal folk tales. They're only native to Earth, and they're extinct by my time."

Ivan's glittering eyes focused intently on the Dalek, and he gave an almost non-existent nod. "Vicious critters," he remarked. "Like to chew on wires, insulation, cables, you name it. They find anything alive in there, they'll sting it 'til they get bored."

Even as he explained the trap to Jack, the movements of the Dalek in question became sporadic, his vocalizations broken and intermittent, incomprehensible. "Huh," Jack mused, somewhat stunned by the success of the two men. "I don't think I've ever seen a Dalek have a stroke before." Ivan snorted in response.

As the first Dalek ground to a halt and the two firefighters bolted for cover once more, a second Dalek trundled in to view and leveled his weapon at the backs of the retreating men. "Exterminate!"

Jack felt a chill track down his spine at the sound of the familiar, hated mechanized voice. The Dalek's trajectory would bring it close to the balcony where Ivan and Jack crouched, and Jack could see that there was no way the two running men would reach cover before the Dalek was in range to fire. Without pausing to think, Jack leapt to the railing of the balcony and from there to the ground in front of the Dalek, blocking the two firefighters from fire. The Dalek jerked backward slightly in surprise at the sudden appearance of the other human.

"Hi, sunshine!" Jack exclaimed with a cocky grin. "Need somebody to play with?"

"You will be exterminated!" The barrel of the Dalek's gun swiveled to point directly at Jack's face.

"Gosh," Jack drawled, bracing for the shot. "_This_ certainly looks familiar."

"Sarge!" Ivan's booming voice suddenly echoed down the street, almost more of a concussive impact than sound. "Duck and cover, you idiot!"

Moving on reflex, Jack dropped to the ground and threw his arms over his head. There was a strange hissing sound. The temperature in Jack's immediate area plummeted to near arctic depths, and the strange sound was followed by echoing silence. Jack finally raised his head to see what had happened.

Another firefighter, this one wearing full protective gear with the addition of a pair of heavy gloves and protective goggles, was standing over Jack with an oddly shaped container that was connected to a strangely shaped hose and a pump. He was grinning like a madman in the direction of the Dalek, and Jack turned to see what had happened.

The Dalek was frozen, covered in a layer of ice crystals and unmoving. Jack grinned, pushing himself to his feet. "Where in the heck did you guys get liquid nitrogen?"

The firefighter laughed. "Ol' Nick comes up with the damndest stuff," he drawled.

Still smirking, Jack pulled his hand out of his coat pocket, holding the Dalekanium rock hammer Tamara had given him. "I'll have to make sure I give him a special thanks," he said. Then he swung the hammer in a strong backhand blow.

The frozen Dalek shattered instantly, cold bits of metal scattering across the road like bits of gravel. "Okay, not to make a bad pun, but that was kinda cool!" Jack smirked, twirling the hammer through his fingers with unconscious grace. The firefighter groaned.

"Lucky for you I've used up all this stuff, or I'd give you a quick spritz for that one," he groused.

Before Jack could reply, he was interrupted by the distinctive wheel-on-gravel crunching sound of another Dalek trundling towards him. Whirling defensively, he spotted the damaged alien machine approaching from behind, its gun blackened and obviously useless. "You will be detained for extermination!" it proclaimed.

Jack and the firefighter began to back away from the machine carefully, diverging slightly so the Dalek would have to choose between the two possible targets. Jack knew there was a fourth Dalek around somewhere, but his focus was entirely on the creature before him. Even though the Daleks in the area where so damaged as to be all but neutered, and this one even more so, he knew it was still an unpredictable and dangerous menace.

"Dontchu wurry none," a deep voice drawled from behind Jack, his accent as thick and slow as cold honey. "I got thisun."

Trying not to take his eyes off the Dalek in front of him, Jack cast a quick look towards the side, to catch a glimpse of the speaker. The man that moved into Jack's field of vision was the second-biggest human he'd ever seen; it was going to be a long time before anyone could beat the benchmark set by Ivan – but the man standing to Jack's right came a close second. Head and shoulders taller than Jack, a gray t-shirt with the same firefighter logo that he'd seen on the other men was stretched to the point of straining over broad shoulders and a well-defined chest, red suspenders pulled taught holding up the heavy protective trousers that hugged narrow hips. His brown hair was clipped in a close crew cut, and his brown eyes twinkled with mirth. In hands that looked as though they could easily palm Jack's entire head, the tall man hefted a large mallet that looked like it could easily crush Jack's chest. Jack felt his mouth go dry.

The tall firefighter offered Jack a lazy grin and a wink. "Can't hep it none," he drawled. "Gotta be said. Tha's not a hammer. _This_ here's a hammer!" he hefted the large mallet meaningfully, then raised it over his shoulder in a batter's pose. He took two long strides forward and began to swing the mallet down in a swinging arc. Muscles in his arms and back rippled and bulged as the mallet whistled through the air – a vague part of Jack's mind marveled at the fact that a mallet even _could_ whistle – and impacted low into the Dalek's side.

The resulting crescendo of sound was reminiscent of an exploding church bell. Jack flinched from the sound, feeling it vibrate through his skull as it began to fade, and he focused back on the scene before him to see the tall firefighter standing over the prone form of the Dalek, pleased smile on his face and the mallet resting easily over his shoulder, one wrist cocked over the handle to balance it in place. "Tha's how ya do it," he said, satisfied.

"Emergency! Emergency! Energy reserves depleted! Assistance required!" the Dalek shrieked. His mechanized voice sounded warped, as though the impact of the mallet had managed to damage the connections. As Jack gaped at the scene, yet another firefighter came trundling up with another piece of heavy equipment – the first one Jack had readily recognized.

Still sporting the same half-complete uniform that the other firefighters seemed to be favoring, this man looked like a walking brick, thickly muscled across the shoulders and through his torso, seeming to be almost as wide as he was tall. In his hands he carried the Jaws of Life, as if the bulky equipment weighed nothing. Wedging into the seam between the Dalek's dome and the rest of its body, he quickly activated the noisy machine and within seconds, a noticeable gap in the seam began to appear.

With a metallic shriek of rending metal, the ozone smell and spark of shorting connections, the Jaws of Life forced the dome off of the bell-shaped body, and the stocky man stepped back to look down at what he had exposed. His expression twisted into a curious look of disgust. "Eww. Ya mean t' tell me that thing right there been causin' all this fuss?"

The tall firefighter with the mallet moved up beside him, and recoiled in disgust. "Ick. What _is_ that thing?" The mallet over his shoulder slid forward with a slight shrug, until the head was resting against his fist and the haft was resting against the ground. He reached forward with the haft, and prodded cautiously at the interior of the Dalek. Jack took that as his cue to move up beside the two men.

The shorter man threw a back-handed slap against the tall man's bicep. "Devon! Knock that shit off! Ya don't know where that things been!" he scolded.

Devon pulled the mallet back, but snorted at the shorter man. "Hush up, Al. I wu'tn gonna hurt nothin'."

Al glared at his fellow firefighter. "Never said you wuz. Jus' don' want you messin' up Big Ethel, 'case we need her again."

Devon pulled the mallet close to his chest at those words, almost cradling the large item. "You don' think 'at thing coulda damaged 'er, do ya?"

Jack had reached the pair by then, and looked down into the smoking shell of the alien machine. The remains of the alien inside the metal shell was dead, most likely upon contact with the unfiltered external air, flaccid, squid-like body sprawled disgustingly across the internal cradle. "No, that thing is dead," he commented. "Worse thing it could do from this point on is just make it smell funny."

After a momentary pause, Devon offered up his considered opinion. "Ewwww."

Jack heard fast-approaching footsteps coming up behind him, and somehow wasn't surprised when he turned to see the Doctor moving quickly towards them, manic smile firmly in place. "That was brilliant!" he exclaimed as he slid to a stop beside the defeated Dalek, peering down at the remains.

"Pinstripes!" Ivan bellowed from his position on the roof. "Get your ass back inside! There's one more o' those things around here!"

The Doctor blinked up at the big man in slight confusion. "Are you sure? I'm fairly certain that you've accounted for all of them."

"No, he's right, Doc," Jack interrupted. "There were eight – the Cobb brothers got four, the ants got number 5, nitrogen took out number 6, and Big Ethel got introduced to number 7. So number 8 is-"

"You will all be exterminated!" Jack would forever wonder how the Dalek had managed to move so quietly or so quickly into position behind them, but suddenly it was there, modified gun menacing directly at the Doctor's head. It was too sudden, too far, and Jack was too helpless; there was no way he'd be able to interpose himself between the Dalek's bullet and the Doctor's oh-so-fragile body. A rush of terror and adrenaline ripped through Jack as he could almost see the Doctor's oncoming regeneration. A tiny little part of his mind commented that at least with the primitive weapons to which the Dalek had been reduced, there would be another one.

A bellow of rage echoed down the street, followed by a shadow that seemed to block out the sun and a flying shape too big to be real. Ivan had leapt from the second-story balcony, lips pulled back in an angry snarl to unleash a roar of anger so primal it reached into Jack's psyche and touched the primitive instinct in all humans that warned them to be afraid of the dark and the things within it. His booted foot impacted solidly with the Dalek's upper body, shoving the alien back several feet. There was the mechanical whine of discharge, the meaty slap of impact followed by a pained grunt, and Ivan staggered down to one knee.

Before anyone could react, a banshee shriek of fury scythed through them all. If Jack thought he felt fear at the sound of Ivan's rage, now he knew what terror was. Moving like a thing possessed, Tamara streaked down the short stretch of road towards them, a living blur of color and movement. Her arms wrapped around the Dalek's cranium, locking together just under its eye stalk and forcing the appendage upwards, her long legs wrapped securely around the Dalek's bell-shaped torso. Her normally cheerful expression was twisted into such an expression of utter hatred, she almost didn't look human any longer. Tamara's voice emerged as an inarticulate, incoherent wordless noise that set Jack's teeth on edge and seemed to resonate from the very marrow of his bones. He started to move forward – to do what, he had no idea. Assist, pull her away to safety, something – when a large hand closed tightly on his bicep and he looked up into the frowning face of Devon.

"Best not cross her right now," the tall man drawled, still cradling the big mallet against his shoulder. "Ain't seen her this mad in 20 years. She's like t' take your head off, you git 'n her way now."

Tamara began to twist the Dalek's cranium from side to side. The alien menace shrieked in pain and fear, the scream of slowly rending metal adding to the cacophony. The Doctor was suddenly at Jack's side, his face a reflection of Jack's own fear and uncertainty.

"Jack," the Doctor hissed. "Is it my imagination, or is she... bigger?"

Once the Doctor pointed it out, Jack had to agree. The enraged woman seemed to be both taller and broader than she normally was, radiating a nearly palpable aura of menace that had Jack starting to edge backward instinctively. "Everyone looks bigger when they're mad, Doc," Jack hissed back, never taking his eyes off the still-shrieking woman. He wasn't sure Tamara had even stopped to breathe since her sudden appearance in the middle of the fight.

Before the Doctor could respond, there was the unholy sound of metal rending, the pop-and-snap of connections severing, and Tamara dropped to her feet once more, severed Dalek cranium in her arms. Movements flowing seamlessly, as though she had rehearsed them hundreds of times before, her hands slid to the eye stalk and she raised the cranium above her head like a club. With an echoing crash, she brought it down on the now lifeless shell before her.

"You stupid," WANG! "Miserable," WANG! "Piece of mechanical junk!" Finally her words returned, although her voice was unrecognizable as the woman who had first greeted them in this unusual town. For a full 30 seconds, she continued to pummel the defunct machine, bellowing imprecations and insults the entire time; the Dalek's remains began to change shape under the force of the blows being administered.

Devon and Al had moved to the kneeling Ivan's side, and began to staunch the flow of blood from the hole in the upper right side of his chest. The big man in question just watched his wife's rage wind down with a slight smirk on his lips, the only outward sign of pain a slight crinkling around the eyes. "She's gonna feel that tomorrow," he mumbled.

Finally, finally the enraged woman calmed. The detached cranium slid from numb fingers to land with a solid thump on the road at her feet, its impact the only sound to echo in the sudden silence. Trembling, pale, gasping for breath but with eyes only for her husband, she took a step closer. "You gonna be okay?" she asked.

Ivan grunted noncommittally. "That was rather foolish," the Doctor chastised mildly, going to his knees beside Ivan and whipping out his sonic screwdriver to scan the wound. "You should have let me take the bullet. I'd have been fine."

"You'd 've been dead," Ivan corrected. He winced slightly as Devon applied more direct pressure to the wound, and Tamara sucked in a sharp breath through her nose.

"I'd have gotten better," the Doctor corrected absently.

Jack snorted. "You're an idiot, Doc. You don't have that many more 'Get Out of Death Free' cards left to play. You both should've let me take the bullet. You know I'd have been okay."

Tamara thrust out a hand between the pair, bringing them to silence as she glanced first from one to the other. "I'm glad you're all feeling so self-sacrificing right now," her voice soft and tired from the previous strain. "I'm so glad, I'm going to make you both a deal. If you don't stop my husband from leaking copious amounts of necessary fluid all over the ground, I will make sure you both get the experience first-hand, and you can _both_ take a bullet for him! Fix him! NOW!" Starting quiet and mild, her voice had risen to an angry bellow by the end, and both Jack and the Doctor flinched.

Al interrupted before either of them could speak. "Tam, problem," he said, voice tense. "Ain't no exit."

Tamara went even paler, something Jack hadn't thought possible. "What do you mean?"

Al's eyes were frightened as he looked up at the hovering woman. "You done knowed we ain't got nothin' can dig stuff outta Ivan," he said tersely. "He's done got too big for all'a our stuff. Bullet t'weren't there, wound'd heal like always. It's gonna go septic, we don't do somethin' right quick."

Tamara and Ivan locked eyes, his resigned and hers frightened. Before they could speak, however, the Doctor interrupted.

"Easy, peasy!" he exclaimed, bounding to his feet. "We just have to get you to the TARDIS! The old girl can get you patched up in a jiffy!" With a flutter of brown coat tails, he spun towards the other firefighters approaching.

"I need a vehicle of some sort – it's a bit far for Ivan to walk in his current condition – have him back on his feet in no time!"

"I'll get th' gater," one of the men called, turning to sprint away towards the fire station.

Jack placed a gentle hand on Tamara's arm. "It's going to be fine," he told her gently. "If the Doctor says he can do this, then he can do this. He won't let you down."

Tamara's tear-filled eyes tracked to Jack's face, her expression lost and disconcertingly helpless. "For his sake, he'd better," she said in a voice thick with suppressed tears.

* * *

><p>The "gater" turned out to be a six-wheeled, three axled lawn tractor that belonged to the fire department; they used it to transfer heavy equipment during training maneuvers. With Jack driving, the Doctor and Tamara were able to get Ivan seated in the cargo bed, then perched beside him on either gunwale to steady him. Tamara maintained constant pressure on the wound, but even she could tell that Ivan was starting to feel the effects of the blood loss and pain. "Just a few more seconds, baby," Tamara said quietly. "We're almost there."<p>

Ivan grunted wordlessly, body swaying from both the movement of the swift-moving tractor and from the pain. "Love you, baby. You know that, right?" he said, his voice low and gruff.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she replied, tears tracking down her face. "Prove how much you love me, ya blockhead. Don't you go nowhere."

Ivan smirked. "Ain't plannin' to," he grumbled. "Got business t' take care of once this here leak gets stopped. Y' know how hot you look when y' loose yer temper. And it's not at me."

Tamara smirked in response. "You dirty old man," she snarked. "You ain't hurt that bad if you can still be a pervert."

As the implication of what the couple was saying finally registered, the Doctor's face was suffused in red. He opened his mouth to comment, and realized he had no words. His mouth snapped shut with a click, and his blush flamed even brighter. Ivan's eyes twinkled, and he smirked even more. In the driver's seat, Jack smirked as well. "I have to say, you're husband's right," Jack called over his shoulder without looking back. "You are a truly impressive sight when you're angry. Ivan's a very lucky man."

"Damn straight I am," Ivan responded, his voice a low rumble. Even with his carefree words, though, Tamara could hear the thread of pain and knew he was simply trying to distract himself. "You two best get this hole in me patched up quick – I intend to get even luckier later on."

Tamara could feel a light blush staining her own cheeks at her husband's innuendo even as Jack laughed delightedly, but she suspected that if the Doctor turned any redder, he would spontaneously combust.

* * *

><p>It took the combined support of Jack and Tamara to steady Ivan and guide him through the TARDIS doors that the Doctor hastily pushed open. "Let's get him to the medical bay," the Doctor said. "He's lost a lot of blood – we have to be quick, now."<p>

It was obvious that the massive Ivan was moving one foot in front of the other by sheer will alone; his jaw was clamped tight, his skin pale as perspiration coursed down his temples. The arm he had draped over Jack's shoulder allowed his left hand to clutch at the shorter man's shoulder, and Jack was having to bight back pain of his own. He knew that, advanced healing or not, his shoulder was going to be a solid mass of bruising. He would be lucky to escape without damage to the actual joint itself – but he knew he'd heal quick enough. Out of the corner of his eye as he monitored Ivan's forward progress in an effort to compensate his balance as necessary, he noticed that he had an equally solid grip on Tamara's far shoulder as well, but the big woman seemed not to notice any discomfort from the grip.

"Hang in there, babe, we're almost there," she encouraged softly. "You can make it, babe. You can do it."

Ivan snorted. "Woman," he growled through clenched teeth. "I'm not being potty trained. It's only a gunshot wound."

Tamara growled back. "Shut it, wise ass," she snarked. "I'm being the loving and supporting wife. Deal with it, and move your carcass."

"Bicker later, you two," Jack grunted. "No offense, big man, but you aren't exactly a featherweight."

Ivan snorted. "No, really?"

Fortunately for them all, the TARDIS was being cooperative for a change; the first door that opened onto the corridor upon exiting the console room was the medical bay, and Jack and Tamara were able to guide the staggering Ivan to the examination bed just as the last of his strength failed. Within moments, the pair had the big man up onto the table, and Tamara began pulling off her husband's vest and shirt. While the pair got the ugly wound exposed for treatment and did their best to make Ivan comfortable on the too small bed, the Doctor assembled several pieces of hand-held equipment he was going to need in order to treat the wound. As he rushed back to the bedside with a somewhat manic grin on his face, a soft, blue-tinted light radiated down from the ceiling directly over the prone form of Ivan and his two attendants.

"Right, then!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Let's have a look, and get that bullet out of there, shall we?"

Ivan's beetle-black eyes narrowed in the Doctor's direction. "I'd take it as a personal kindness, yeah," he grumped. The Doctor offered what was meant to be a reassuring smile, then bent down over the massive man's exposed chest with one of the hand-held devices.

Tamara gripped Ivan's other hand tightly as she concentrated on what the Doctor was doing. Jack slid easily into the role of nurse-assistant, waiting with a specimen dish to receive the bullet and prepared to hand the Doctor the next needed item. Ever so gently, the Doctor manipulated the bullet from the gaping wound with what Jack could only assume was a sonic forceps, and casually tossed the blood-stained piece of shrapnel into the waiting tray with an innocuous sounding 'clink'. Tossing the extraction device onto the nearby table, the Doctor was ready for the tissue regenerator that Jack passed into his waiting hand.

"That's the hard part done," the Doctor stated with a smile, fiddling with the controls on the hand held regenerator. "Now just a few quick passes and you'll be good as new!" As he finished setting the machine, he turned it to focus on the wound and pressed the button.

Outside of the occasional cataclysmic crash, Jack had never heard a device on the TARDIS make such a harsh, disturbing noise. The regenerator snarled in electronic protest and the blue sterile field bathing the quartet on and around the medical bay flashed mauve for a few quick seconds. Ivan grimaced and snarled in pain, hand tightening spasmodically around Tamara's grip. The big woman barely managed to abort an instinctive lunge for the Doctor's throat.

"What the hell was that?" she snarled, her voice frighteningly deep and feral. The Doctor recoiled, almost instinctively, from the wall of anger radiating from her.

"That shouldn't have happened," he stated, staring at the regenerator with an expression of betrayal. "That response is categorically impossible!"

He thrust the device in Jack's general direction, assuming the other man would catch it as he released it; it was a close bit of fumbling, but Jack clutched the unit to his chest even as the Doctor lunged for another device, one Jack hadn't seen him use ever before. Fingers dancing a frenetic pace across the various controls of the new device, and the Doctor passed it several times over Ivan's supine form. "No!" he finally breathed, staring intently at the small display screen on the side of the unit. Recalibrating, the Doctor made a second pass, and then a third.

"Pinstripes!" Tamara finally bellowed, her voice – while loud – back in its normal register. "You got thirty seconds to produce some kind of explanation out of that pretty mouth o' yours before I start beating some answers out of you!"

The Doctor jumped, almost as if he'd forgotten that he had an audience. He cast a wild-eyed look first at Tamara, then down to the pale-faced Ivan, but he still hesitated to speak. Instead, he pushed the device in his hands at Jack and snatched back the regenerator, once again rapidly twiddling the dials to calibrate the device.

This time, when he focused the tissue regenerator on Ivan's exposed chest, the device issued a melodious hum and a more intense blue light onto the oozing wound. Slowly, Tamara and Jack watched the sluggish bleeding finally stop, and the ragged edges of the wound begin to pull together incrementally slowly, the color fading from angry, bloody red to the cool, healthy pink of healed tissue. Ivan's eyes gradually closed, the tension draining from his massive frame as the pain receded and his grip on his wife's hand relaxing but never releasing. His breathing eased and deepened, and he sighed.

"That's 100 percent right there," he grumbled, voice quiet but much less strained, and Tamara visibly relaxed as well. She no longer looked as though she were about to lunge across the table and twist the Doctor's head off.

Within seconds, the wound was closed and looks weeks old. The Doctor finally shut off the regenerator, and laid it aside, taking a deep breath of his own. "There we go, all done. Just need to get a good meal into you, maybe a banana or two, and you'll be good as new!" he said brightly. Jack could tell, however, that the cheerfulness was forced.

"Thank you, Doctor," Tamara replied. "He's a big lug, but he's my big lug, and I'm just as happy to see him with a few less holes in his hide. So what the hell was that… buzzing flashing thing about earlier?"

Ivan's eyes opened slowly, and he leveled a hard stare up at the Doctor. "Gotta say, Pinstripes – weren't th' most pleasant feeling ever. Hurt worse 'n the bullet did goin' in."

The Doctor turned away from the medical table without answering, collecting the various tools he'd snatched up upon first entering the medical bay and returning them to their appropriate drawers. Even from where he was standing beside the concerned couple, Jack could see the tension tight through the Doctor's shoulders. After the last piece was returned to its proper place, the Doctor braced both hands on the counter and let his chin drop momentarily to his chest. Even the TARDIS seemed to be holding her breath as the room fell into silence waiting for the Time Lord to speak. Taking a deep breath, the Doctor turned back to the waiting couple, and scrubbed both hands through his hair and causing it to stick up as though suddenly electrified.

"It seems that I was mistaken about something earlier," he finally said, gazing at the prone man in wide-eyed wonder. "I've never made a mistake like this before. Well, I say mistake – it was more a case of mechanical failure – well, I say mechanical failure; it would be more accurate to say mechanical shortcomings. Maybe not shortcomings; say instead lack of sensitivity. Yes, that's it. Not a mistake, a lack of mechanical sensitivity, but the TARDIS was able to compensate, magnificent machine that she is, and everything turned out fine! Just fine! Peachy, even!"

Ivan rolled his gaze over to Jack. "Does he always babble like this? Or is it only when he's scared?"

"No, no – the babbling is pretty much a constant state," Jack assured him, just as baffled as the other man. "Doc, take a deep breath," he finally said. "And spit it out. What mistake – excuse me – example of lack of mechanical sensitivity are you on about?"

The Doctor's eyes shifted first to Jack, then to Tamara and Ivan. He swallowed convulsively. "The sonic screwdriver is an amazing piece of technology," he stated, apropos of nothing in particular. "It has well over a hundred functions, can open any lock – well, as long as it's not dead sealed or made of wood – it is, by far, the most amazingly useful tool a sentient entity could ever hope to have. It can even handle basic scans of and for life signs. But it was never originally meant to replace a scanner or sensor; it's more like a stop-gap device useful in a pinch." He finally took a deep breath, and leveled an intent stare at the watching Ivan.

"The sonic screwdriver lacks a certain… level of sensitivity when it comes to deep scans. It took the much more sophisticated, sensitive sensors of the TARDIS to go deep enough into your DNA to pick up what the sonic screwdriver wasn't capable of registering." The Doctor finally took a deep breath and straightened fully, letting his hands fall limply to his sides, fingers curling slightly into loose fists.

"Ivan McKenzie, you are not completely human," he stated.

* * *

><p>"You wanna run that by me again, Pinstripes?" Tamara said into the ringing silence that followed the Doctor's statement. Her voice was absolutely calm and quiet, but her eyes were blazing. The Doctor swallowed almost audibly.<p>

"Well, it seems that buried deep within Ivan's DNA sequence is a little hidden surprise. At first glance, it looks completely normal, but buried in there is… well… a chromosome or two that isn't – strictly speaking – normally found in humans," the Doctor said in a rush.

Both Ivan and Tamara blinked at him several times, stunned. "So what exactly does this mean?" Ivan finally growled.

"I'll tell you what this means, darling beloved husband of mine," Tamara interrupted quietly before the Doctor could answer. "IT MEANS I WAS RIGHT!" she shrieked, making both of the two smaller men flinch, startled. Ivan's head thudded solidly against the medical bed – and then he repeated the action, several times. Tamara laughed and pointed at him with her free hand, her other hand still caught in her husband's loose grip. "IwasrightIwasrightIwasright!" the tall woman crowed, laughing. "Changeling boy! Just wait 'til I tell your mother! I was right! Ha!"

After a few more thumps of his head against the solid surface of the bed, Ivan huffed a disgruntled breath. "Shoot me now. There'll be no living with the woman after this."

The Doctor and Jack exchanged worried glances. "Uh, guys," Jack finally interrupted Tamara's gloating. "I'm… not sure you understand exactly what the Doc meant-"

"Know exactly what he meant," Ivan interrupted, switching his hard stare to his former sergeant. "Means I'm not normal. Already knew that. Y'don't get t' be this big and count as 'normal' by any standards."

Tamara leaned down and pressed a kiss to her husband's forehead. "And it means nothing else," she confirmed. "He's still mine, and he always will be. Ain't nothing hinky in his DNA gonna change that." She smiled up at the Doctor finally. "Yeah, I'm surprised – but he's still Ivan. Been with him nigh on 70 years, don't see no reason to change that now."

Ivan smiled up at his wife, the affection between the pair obvious, before swinging his gaze back to the Doctor. "So if I'm not fully human, what else am I?" he finally asked.

The Doctor scrubbed nervous fingers through the short hairs at the base of his skull. "I have no idea. Yet. But with a few more tests, I can certainly find out what is going on here. That's why the tissue regenerator didn't work right the first time. I programed it for human tissue – that funny little twisty bit of DNA got in the way. The TARDIS was able to give me the correct settings, but she hasn't been able to tell me what the origins of those little anomalies are yet."

Ivan studied the Doctor intensely for a few more seconds, as though he could pull the knowledge directly out of the slender man's head. "So how long do you expect it to take?"

The Doctor made a harsh noise, blowing air noisily through his pursed lips. "Few hours? Couple of days? Two or three weeks, at most. Certainly no more than a month?"

"In other words, you have no idea, do you, Pinstripes?" Tamara prompted.

The Doctor began to pace the narrow space available in the medical bay. "Well, of course I have an _idea_. I always have an idea. Unfortunately, the unusual gene sequences are so buried, so intermingled with standard, normal human DNA that they aren't coinciding with any genetic code currently stored in the TARDIS' database. An thorough exam to determine each gene pair usually takes a few minutes, at most. _Matching_ those mysterious little dickens – now _that_, that could take anywhere from an hour to a month. I won't know until I find the answer."

Ivan began to push himself up off the table, and Tamara helped ease her husband into a seated position. "So what does that mean for us?" he asked.

The Doctor and Jack exchanged a quick glance, and Jack shrugged. _Your call_, he seemed to say with the gesture.

The Doctor turned a brilliant grin on the couple before him. "Why not travel with us while the tests run?" he finally said. "Quick trip, once around the intergalactic block so to speak, and have you back here just after you left! We can go to any place in time and space while the tests run!" He was beaming like a child at Christmas as he offered the suggestion.

Tamara and Ivan simply looked at each other. The time travelling duo of the TARDIS watched the married pair carry on an entire conversation through wiggling eyebrows, pursed lips and rolled eyes. Finally, they turned back to the waiting men.

"You ever have any trouble with your TARDIS like you did with your fancy screwdriver doohickey and regenerator?" Tamara asked.

The Doctor looked shocked – Jack wasn't sure if it was from the question itself, or from the use of the word 'doohickey' to describe the sonic screwdriver – and his mouth gaped slightly before he spluttered indignantly. "I most certainly do not!" he exclaimed finally. "The TARDIS and I have been travelling together for millennium! Everything works exactly perfectly as I need it to!"

Jack couldn't – he really, really couldn't, even though he tried – quite suppress the snort that escaped, and the Doctor turned a beautiful example of a stink-eyed gaze on the smirking ex-Time Agent. "Yes, Captain?" the Doctor said coldly, challengingly.

"I'm saying nothing, Doc," Jack protested, throwing up his hands in a warding gesture. "Not word one. Okay, maybe one. Two. Ian Dury."

A very faint pink flush tinged the Doctor's cheeks for a moment, and he cleared his throat. "So maybe once or twice…"

Tamara held up one hand to forestall any further words. "That's what I thought. Yeah, we'd love to come travelling with you – but we got to go back to town for a few things first. Gotta make sure the kids get fed on schedule, make sure somebody keeps an eye on things if we're gone longer than we plan. Maybe grab a change of clothes or two, make sure the vault gets locked down solid–"

"Vault?" Jack asked, ears almost perking up. "You guys run the bank?"

Ivan snorted derisively, and Tamara laughed. "Nah, not that kinda vault," she said. "The oddities vault. We find all kinds of strange stuff 'round these parts. We just collect it all in one place and keep a lid on it 'til Nick has a chance to take a look and see if he can make heads or tails outta the stuff we dig up." Tamara gazed at her husband speculatively. "He's fallen a bit behind, though."

"Not his fault," Ivan grunted. "Damn suit of armor. Ain't been able to figure out how t' get the damn thing outta the vault without someone getting hurt. 'Til we do, Nick can't get t' no more of the stuff in there."

In a day of confusing revelations, Ivan's statement just made the mountain of confusion grow even higher. "Suit of armor?" Jack finally asked. "What suit of armor?"

Another silent conversation passed between the husband and wife team, concluded by one sharp, jerking nod from Ivan. "Might just be easier if we show you," Tamara finally said. "Let's get back to the gater, and we can return it to the firehouse at the same time."

* * *

><p>The facility that Ivan and Tamara led the Doctor and Jack looked exactly like what it was – an abandoned bank on the outskirts of town. The Doctor had run past it, fleeing the Dalek incursion at the school, without even noticing the older building. The couple led the time travelling pair down into the basement of the building, which turned out to be one large, open concrete room whose entire back wall was dominated by an old fashioned vault door, complete with hand-cranked combination lock.<p>

"So why did they abandon this building?" Jack asked, as the four of them made their way down the solid wooden steps into the basement. "I can't imagine you folks get enough business that this place would be too small."

Tamara shrugged. "Owners of the bank wanted something closer to downtown, with a vault that's easier to open. So they sold this building back to the city, and we use it to store unused equipment, stuff the town needs but nobody really owns, and the crap that turns up in the woods around these parts. Some of this junk has been in here over 200 years. Heck, I think some of this stuff has been here longer than the town itself." As she spoke, she moved so that she was against the back wall of the basement, facing the vault, and checked her rifle almost casually. Once she had confirmed that it was fully loaded and functioning properly, she brought it up into a loose ready stance. "About two, three years ago, we found this weird looking, beat up old suit of armor. No idea how it got out into the woods. The boys that found it dragged it back here for Ivan, and before we could get it down to the vault, damn thing started twitchin' and jerkin', then it tried to bite Ivan's face off. We finally managed t' get it wrestled into the vault, and haven't been able to do anything with it since then."

Ivan had moved silently over to the massive vault door and began dialing in the combination. "You two might want to move over to my left," Tamara said. "Stay back against the wall, and stay out of my line of fire."

The Doctor and Jack exchanged concerned glances even as they moved to stand to the left and somewhat behind the tall woman, backs to the stone wall indicated. "What exactly is going on here?" the Doctor finally asked.

"Ivan is gonna open the vault – and as soon as he does, that damn suit of armor is going to try to get out gain. It was a pain in the butt to get it in here in the first place, I'll be danged if I'm gonna let it get outta the building again." She brought the rifle up to her shoulder, sighting down the barrel as Ivan dialed the last number, and looked back to see if she was ready.

"Ain't found nothing to permanently stop it yet, but put a few slugs in it and the stupid thing gets pushed back far enough for Ivan to be able to slam the door again. He used ta be the one to make the shots, but I can't push the door closed fast enough." Tamara explained. "You boys ready?"

"Yeah, I gotta see this," Jack stated. He could feel adrenaline coursing through his veins in anticipation, trying to figure out what was going to be revealed in the darkened vault before Ivan opened the door.

"Okay, honey – open it up!" Tamara said firmly. With only a slight grunt of effort, Ivan wrapped both fists around the vault's handle and dragged the door open. The solid steel and lead contraption was easily as thick as Jack's shoulders were wide – probably a little thicker – and the door made a grating sound as it dragged across the dusty concrete floor. The echoing space behind the massive door was consumed in darkness, and was at first very still and silent.

Before a few seconds had passed, however, both the Doctor and Jack could sense movement in the darkness before them as something began to stir. There was the sharp scrape of metal on stone again as something was dragged closer to the door. Then another, and another, like footsteps approaching from the blackness.

The Doctor felt pain shoot through both of his hearts even as the blood drained from his face, as the dirty, cracked and broken shape of a Cyberman came shambling slowly into the light of the main basement chamber. Jack drew his gun reflexively; he had it in his hand and trained on the Cyberman without even realizing his hand had moved. As one metallic-clad foot began to swing over the threshold of the vault, Tamara pulled the trigger. The concussive blast of the round firing slapped the Doctor out of his horror and back to the present, and as Tamara fired a second, and then a third time, he could see the pock-marked divots of impact in the Cyberman's chest plate from where this had been done before. Each bullet impacted the chest cavity with a gong-like sound, causing the Cyberman to stagger back a step – but never quite enough to make it fall, or stop moving completely. Tamara was firing steadily, although not as rapidly as she had been when facing off against the Dalek that was attempting to carry Nick off.

"You seen enough, Pinstripes?" she asked between shots. "Can we close it up, now?"

The Doctor swallowed heavily. "I can do you one better," he said between gritted teeth. "Stop firing and I can stop that thing completely." The Doctor slipped his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, setting the correct frequency without ever removing his eyes from the struggling Cyberman. Taking a half-step back, Tamara snapped the barrel of her rifle up to point at the ceiling.

"Go, Pinstripes. You got about 30 seconds before it gets too far out for me to push it back." Tamara ejected the magazine from her rifle, and slapped a fresh, full one in its place.

The Doctor took one step forward and raised the hand that held the sonic screwdriver, pointing it directly at the shambling metal form. Pressing the button, an intense beam of energy shot forth from the end of the sonic and engulfed the Cyberman's chest piece, arcing around it in stabs and sparks of synthetic lightning. As the electricity crackled, the Cyberman twitched and shivered in the fits of a seizure until there was one final loud 'pop' of sparking energy and the actinic stench of burnt insulation. The Cyberman's limbs locked in a ridged position, and the metal monstrosity tumbled to the concrete floor with an echoing clang. Slowly, the Doctor lowered his sonic device, and Jack could hear his harsh breath being pushed in and out through his nose.

"Well done, Pinstripes!" Tamara exclaimed happily. She flipped the safety on her rifle, and slung it over her shoulder. "That cussed thing has been plaguing us for years now. Didn't think we'd ever get it outta there."

The Doctor simply glared at the fallen form, his entire expression overtaken by the Oncoming Storm. "I am so very glad I was able to help," he finally said quietly, voice tight. "If there is anything I despise as much as Daleks, it is Cybermen."

"The unquiet ghosts of our pasts most often lie heaviest on our thoughts," Ivan muttered, stepping around the edge of the door to squat beside the prone metal form and study it. "This thing really done?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor said, some of the intensity leeching out of his face and posture, his expression returning to something more akin to what Jack was used to. He bounced over towards the crouching giant and defunct Cyberman, ramming his hands into his pockets as he bent at the waist to study the prone shape. "I was able to burn out its internal motivator, short its control panels, and erase its directive chips." One sneaker-clad foot connected with the hollow metal shape with a dull thud. "It's nothing but a collection of useless bits and shapes, now."

Ivan gave one jerking nod of approval, pushing himself back upright. "Still wanna take it apart, just in case," he grumbled, stepping around the metal form and into the vault proper. With a sharp click, dim lights appeared within the cavernous depths and began to gain intensity as they warmed.

Seeing that as all the invitation necessary, the Doctor bounced quickly into the room after Ivan, and Jack didn't hesitate to follow. Tamara brought up the rear, chuckling to herself quietly, as she used one booted foot to slide the Cyberman's metal carcass off to one side of the door.

"Now that that _thing_ is out of the way, we can start bringing the boxes of other junk down here to keep it out of temptation's way," she said, following the three men into the cavernous room.

"Now what would be the fun in that?" Jack quipped. His eyes never stopped moving as he scanned the dusty selves and the table piled high with random bits of detritus.

"Eh… Little fingers get into the damndest places," Tamara remarked. "Not so bad when Nick is the one poking his nose into things that don't concern him – bit different when it's the neighbor's 12 year old kid." She was shuffling boxes around, peering into dark corners and into the back of lower shelves as she wandered aimlessly through the room. "Honestly, I have no idea what the heck is in here anymore. Not like we have an inventory or anything."

Jack's mind was reeling as he absorbed the sight of everything around him. On every shelf and every surface, random bits of broken equipment and electronics, oddly shaped and colored rocks, and fragments of weaponry were tossed in piles like so much second hand trash at a boot sale. The fact that had his hair trying to stand on end was how much of it he recognized. "Doc, isn't that…." He muttered, pointing at one of the shelves on the far wall.

The Doctor simply nodded. "A fragment of an Ice Warrior's helmet, yes," the Doctor mumbled back, his eyes scanning even more rapidly than Jack's. "Part of a Judoon breast plate… That's an Androzani robot hand… Sontaran collar… _How_ on _Earth_ did all of this _get_ here?"

Jack had never heard the Doctor's voice reach such a pitch of stress and bewilderment. He could almost feel the painfully thin alien's body vibrating in place as he tried to move in every direction at the same time, to look at everything at once. There were so many stimuli for the Doctor to consider, his body was refusing to respond to any of them; all he could do was stand in place and gape.

Ivan was rummaging randomly through boxes, picking up odd shaped pieces and examining them closely, then tossing them back onto the shelf from which he'd plucked it. Tamara moved up beside the agitated Time Lord and clapped him on the shoulder. "I told you, Pinstripes – we find all kinds of crap out there in the woods around town. Some of it we can just look at and know it ain't from around these parts. Some of it, like those rocks over there, just have a funny feeling about 'em, and since we don't know what they are, we stick 'em in here until Nick has a chance to analyze 'em and figure out what's what. We've had a few nasty surprises, but nothing as bad as your Daleks until now."

Jack finally stepped away from the Doctor's side, and began circling the room, bright eyes alight with curiosity and inquisitiveness as he scanned the area. He saw fragments of metallic-seeming chitinous shell armor from a few different alien races in addition to the broken fragments of weapons and ships – nothing in a big or complete enough piece to be a threat to anyone – but it was the sheer quantity and variety that Jack found overwhelming.

Suddenly, Jack felt his throat close, as though all of the air had suddenly been removed from the underground storage area. His vision began to darken, black spots surging and swirling before his eyes, and in his ears came the echoing sound of a voice he'd thought long forgotten, a sinister laugh and an oily tone whispering in his ear, and an undertone of giggling madness. The world was spinning; all he could smell was the scent of ashes on the wind, burning flesh and overheated metal, the taste of blood and death on his tongue and the world was retreating further and further away as the darkness climbed higher.

With an inaudible click and the gentlest of thumps, reality returned and Jack realized he was staring directly into a pair of worried brown eyes. His ass and spine ached from where he had dropped straight down onto the cold concrete floor from a standing position, and the Doctor was kneeling between his splayed legs, hands gripping either side of his head. Ivan was knelt behind the gasping Captain, restraining the smaller man's arms with hands gripped loosely around each bicep. Only then did Jack realize he'd been struggling against the big man's hold, and the Doctor was chanting softly, "It's okay, Jack. I'm right here. It's over. It's been over. He's gone. It's okay, Jack. I'm right here. Breathe, Jack, breathe…"

Jack took a deep breath and slumped bonelessly back against the support of the big man behind him. "I'm okay now," he panted, forcing his breathing to slow and return to normal. "Sorry about that."

Ivan merely grumbled wordlessly. Tamara had bent over slightly, hands on her thighs, to study the prone man in concern. "It's okay, Dimples," she said. "Pretty sure all of us have got some issues we're toting around. Think you can tell us what set off that little flashback?"

Jack took a few moments to replay the last several minutes in his memory, consciously cataloging everything he'd noticed on the shelves before everything went haywire. As the pieces clicked into place, he could feel himself begin to hyperventilate again, and made a conscious effort to slow his breathing and abort the process. "On the floor, almost in the back right corner. Doctor… I don't understand how…"

Without forcing him to speak further, the Doctor turned to see if he could locate whatever it was Jack had seen that had caused the flashback. He felt himself pale and go momentarily lightheaded himself as he spotted the objects that had caused the distress. "Where did you find those?" he gasped, his own voice harsh and strained, raising one long, elegant finger to point. He noticed the tremor in his hand, but couldn't stop it.

Confused, Tamara moved towards the spot he was indicating. "Ah!" she exclaimed, her voice flat and grim as she knelt, one hand outstretched. She laid her open palm almost reverently on one of the two broken spheres that were slid into the back corner, their circumference ringed by an odd metal disk. "Do you mean these?" she asked for clarification.

The Doctor nodded. "We call them Toclafane… and they do not exist!" he insisted.

Tamara patted the two empty shells gently. "Poor little things," she muttered. She pushed herself back to an upright position, and turned her back on the broken machines. "Those are probably the worst story we have to tell about the stuff down here," she admitted. Her face was almost expressionless, and yet she somehow looked older, grayer than she had a moment ago, her eyes full of an old sadness.

"Those things buzzed into town… when was it, honey? A year ago? Two?" her gaze shifted to her husband for clarification, but he simply shrugged.

"Don't recall," he admitted. "Didn't bother t' keep count."

Tamara nodded in understanding, and drew a deep breath. "Right. Anyway, they came buzzing into town, shooting the place up and tearing things apart, and _giggiling_… They made this god-awful sound, like demented children… it was horrible. Well, our people ain't stupid. They hit the alleys and buildings quick as you please, kept outta sight, but those things kept tearing the town up, looking for them. It was only a matter of time before people started dying. We had no choice. Ivan put a bullet through each of 'em, took 'em down. Cobb brothers woulda done it, but those things were just too _fast_ for 'em to hit. Once they were down, we found out… those things had… _people_ of some kind in 'em. At least they looked like people…" tears dripped from the big woman's eyes, trailing down her cheeks as she recalled the events of that day.

"One of 'em wasn't dead yet. It sounded… so pitiful, scared. Kept wanting to know where its mister master was, whatever that is. Didn't last too long after, though. Once it was gone, we cracked open the shells, had Nick unplug all the wires and stuff from 'em, gave 'em both a good burial down by the church. Tossed the shells in here." She scrubbed a fist over her eyes, swiping away the traces of tears, and turned a fierce gaze up to the Doctor.

"Maybe they were evil, and maybe they were going to kill us all – but they sounded like babies, and I won't ever _not_ wish there wasn't something else we coulda done," she stated intensely.

Before Ivan could move to comfort his distraught wife, the Doctor was on his feet and gripping her biceps, staring intently into her eyes. "No, Tamara McKenzie, no," he said softly. "You did the right thing. Yes, they would have destroyed you and Ivan and everything in this town, and would have never had a moments remorse – but they were worthy of pity and compassion. You – both of you – did the right thing, and I am so very, very glad to know that someone did." He gave her a gentle shake. "Let it go, Tamara. It's over and done, and they won't ever be back again."

She nodded. "Good. Don't think I could handle that again." She took a deep breath, and the Doctor let his hands fall away from her shoulders, turning back to Jack as he did and offering a hand out to help the Captain to his feet.

"Doc, you might want to run a quick scan down here, make sure we aren't going to find any _other_ nasty surprises," he said. "Most of this stuff looks like junk, but some of it may have a residual charge."

Grinning widely, the Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver, brandishing it like a miniature sword. "Good point, Jack! An excellent point, indeed!" He began fiddling with the settings once more, and Ivan took a half-step away from the skinny, brown-clad man.

"Mmmm," he growled. "Last time that thing 'scanned' something, I got lit up good and proper."

Jack laughed. "I'll protect you, big guy," he said. He was still shaking from the flashback, slightly pale, but was doing his best to shake off the memory and act naturally. Ivan was willing to give him the out.

"No, no, no," the Doctor insisted. "No pain, no pain at all! Just a quick little scan of the room to make sure nothing is going to potentially backfire and give Nick more of a 'boom' than he can handle…" He began to spin slowly in a circle, moving the sonic screwdriver in what at first seemed to be a completely random pattern, but in actuality would eventually ensure every item in the room was completely scanned at least once. The readings being returned were exactly as he expected to see them – no signs of any charges, no signs of any functional devices – until he scanned the back left corner of the vault, and the sonic screwdriver made a shrill, repetitive beeping noise.

Quickly, the Doctor brought the device up to his eyes, whipping out his spectacles to study it intently. "No… nonononononono…"

"No offense, Pinstripes, but you seem to keep saying that a lot, and you seem to keep being proven wrong… You mind telling me what is so impossible now that you're about to prove is not only actually possible, but is somewhere over in that corner?"

Instead of answering, the Doctor moved towards the corner that had caused the beeping, and began a slower, more focused scan. He began to shove boxes aside, hurling articles to the floor around his feet until he had a section of the corner completely exposed, and was scanning the wall. At the look of stricken grief on his face, Jack quickly moved to his side. "Doctor?" he prompted gently. "What is it?"

"It's home, Jack," the Doctor whispered. "It's a piece of home." He snapped the sonic screwdriver closed, thrusting it back into his pocket, then placed both open palms flat against the oddly-colored stone of the corner. It had been hidden behind so much junk and dust clinging to the surface that until that moment, Jack hadn't noticed that the bricks of the entire left back quarter of the room were a different color and texture than the rest of the entire building and floor. The Doctor's hands slid across the flat surface, nimble fingers tracing the subtle texture of the stones as though tracing the features on the face of a long-lost friend.

"This brickwork, Jack – it's from part of the Citadel of Gallifrey," the Doctor whispered harshly. "It should have been erased from time with the rest of my people, my entire planet, and yet here it is." He turned a shining gaze on Jack, and the former Time Agent couldn't tell if the Doctor was going to weep or laugh.

"This is the source of the strange radiation we picked up. It wasn't the Daleks, and the Daleks couldn't have detected this; they never had the scanners to register Gallifreyan energy signatures like this. It's a natural radiation, soaked into the brickwork from our magnificent suns." He patted the bricks as though they were a live creature. "This is why everyone in this area has such an extended lifespan."

The Doctor finally pulled away from the wall, spinning back to face Ivan and Tamara with a blinding smile. "Oh, you brilliant, brilliant, beautiful people!" he exclaimed. "You don't even know what you have, and you hide it in the best way possible! These bricks, this piece of building here, has fallen through time – through uncounted millennia of time – and soaked in the raw radiation of my planet's suns and the Time Vortex. Then _you_ go and build a town around it! Who knows how long it was here before you people came, leaking little bits of radiation into the soil and the water, then into the people and the animals in the area! Little by little for decades on end, making you all live ever so long! Brilliant!"

"Huh," Ivan grunted. "Grandpappy used it as the cornerstone to build the bank 'cause he said it was a waste of perfectly good brick to tear it down just to build it back up again. Weren't supposed to be nothing special… just made good sense at the time."

"Yes, well… I suppose that's also one reason to keep it here," the Doctor conceded, although he seemed a bit disgruntled by Ivan's pragmatism. "It won't last forever, mind you… eventually the radiation will fade, and your people will slowly return to a normal human lifespan."

"How long do we have?" Tamara asked, concerned. Her thoughts immediately turned to the older members of the community who relied on this… whatever it was the Doctor was talking about, without even realizing it.

The Doctor made a small moue of concentration as he considered the answer, doing some rapid calculations. "I'd say… two, three thousand years? More or less. Well, I say more or less, it might actually be a bit more. Time radiation can be a bit dodgy, y'know. Not like it has a regular, measurable half-life or something…"

Tamara heaved a silent sigh of relief. In other words, nothing she needed to worry about today, or even in the next year or two. "Fair enough. I think by then we'll have had time to prepare everyone for the end. What's say we get this place locked back up and skedaddle? I seem to remember _someone_ promising me a look at time, the universe and everything?"

The Doctor smiled at her, and charged towards the open vault door. "Right you are, Tamara McKenzie! Alons-y!"

Jack laughed. "We'd better hurry and catch up," he quipped, moving to follow the hasty Time Lord. "There's no telling what trouble he'll get into if left on his own!"

Tamara laughed as well. She helped Ivan drag the deactivated Cyberman back into the vault and turned off the lights, the pair of them swinging the massive door shut and spinning the lock closed. After making sure everything was secure, the married pair ambled along in the wake of the much more energetic time travelling duo, to make whatever arrangements would be needed to begin their journey.

* * *

><p>Within an hour, Ivan and Tamara were packed and ready to go. They'd driven the gater back to the firehouse, where Ivan was greeted warmly by all the firefighters on duty, happy to see the big man up and about. Most of them then had to come and shake the Doctor's hand for doing such a good job on restoring their compatriot to such exemplary good health, although the skinny alien seemed both overwhelmed and embarrassed at the attention. They checked in on Nick in the hospital; he had regained consciousness shortly after all of the excitement, and was expected to make a full recovery once the burns on his hands had healed. The Doctor took a few seconds to pass his sonic screwdriver over the burns once or twice, which he assured Tamara would not only accelerate the healing, would also ensure there was no nerve damage as a result. For his part, Nick studied the screwdriver's movements and sounds avidly – and would probably have had it snatched out of the Doctor's hands and disassembled in seconds flat if not for the bandaging on his hands. Tamara was fairly certain that within a week, he'd have his own prototype device ready for experimentation. The walk back to Tamara and Ivan's home actually took longer than the time spent packing – both husband and wife simply shoved a few changes of clothes into their individual backpacks, put out additional food for the multitude of cats, and gave all of the furry little beasts chin scritches and cuddles before walking away. The four stopped by Tube Steak Alley for dinner, and stopped to speak with Suzie once they were done.<p>

"You two going camping or something?" Suzie asked brightly as she bounced over to their table.

Tamara smirked. "Or something. We're going travelling with Pinstripes and Mr. Dimples, here," she clarified.

"Oh, cool! Where ya going?" Suzie exclaimed, grinning madly.

"Here and there, hither and yon," the Doctor answered, returning her smile. "No telling where the winds of time will take us, but they'll be back before you know it!"

"Maybe," Ivan growled. He pulled out a thick black leather wallet, and flipped it open. As they spoke, an older man walked over behind Suzie, and draped one muscular arm around the teen girl's shoulders.

The man in question was only slightly taller than the young, perky blonde, but his chest and arms were thick with muscles. His hair and the scruff of a beard on his chin were both salt-and-pepper, his brown eyes were sharp and suspicious as he gave the Doctor and Jack an intense once-over. Jack's first impression was that the man would have looked more comfortable on the back of a motorcycle than standing in the middle of a bright and cheerful diner. "I, Tam – 'sup?" he finally asked. His voice was gruff, as though he were in the habit of intense smoking.

"Not much, Steve," Tamara answered. "Me and the man here are going walkabout for a bit. We wanted Suzie to keep an eye on the kids for us."

Suzie immediately issued an ear-shattering squeal that caused both the Doctor and Jack to flinch instinctively, and she clutched at the older man's shoulder standing next to her. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Can I? Pleeeaaassseee?"

Steve – apparently, Suzie's father – smirked at the young girl at his side. "I dunno," he drawled. "Might be a big responsibility… Pouring out buckets of food, petting all the kittens, playing with the big cats… Might be too much for you to handle."

Suzie punched him in the shoulder, looking indignant. "Dad!" she exclaimed. "It's the _ babies_, Dad! You won't let me have a kitten of my own – this is the closest I'm ever gonna get until I move out and get my own place!"

Steve leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Which won't be until you are 30 if I have anything to say about it," he grumped. But he was trying to swallow a grin.

Suzie simply huffed and rolled her eyes. "Really, Dad? Really? Seriously – can I? Please?"

Finally Steve laughed, and squeezed his daughter's shoulders in a one-armed hug. "Yeah, no problem. Just don't miss class."

"EEEEE! I won't I won't I won't I promise!" Suzie squealed.

While the father/daughter team had been talking, Ivan had been sorting through the contents of his wallet. As they reached an agreement, he pulled out a thick stack of cash and handed it to the teenager. "They got enough food for th' rest o' the week," he stated. "This is in case we aren't back soon, t' buy more." He then pulled a plastic card out of his wallet and handed it to Steve. "You still know the PIN?" he asked.

Steve nodded, tucking the card into his back pocket. "Of course. You expect to be gone long?"

Ivan cut his sharp gaze over towards the Doctor. "Not plannin' on it, but from what I understand, his drivin' ain't always precise."

The Doctor rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You all act as though I never get where I'm going!" he exclaimed.

"Ah, Doc…" Jack interrupted hesitantly. "Ya don't."

The Doctor leveled a cold gaze on the handsome Captain. For his part, Jack raised both hands in a warding gesture. "You do tend to wind up where you're needed, though," he conceded quickly.

Tamara chuckled at the pair's antics. "Be that as it may," she said. "It sounds like it'll be fun, and the big man and I haven't been away for more than a day since before Miss Suzie here started walking. Think its past time we knocked the dust off'n our shoes!"

Steve thrust out his hand to offer Tamara a handshake. "I heard that," he agreed. "You crazy kids have fun! Stay in touch, and send us some postcards or somethin'." He offered his hand to Ivan next, and the two men shook solemnly.

Jack produced a business card from his pocket, and offered it to Steve. "This is a toll-free number to my office," he explained as he offered the card. Tamara noted the odd honeycomb-like 'T' that watermarked the background; other than that, the card held nothing but the name 'Captain Jack Harkness' and a ten digit phone number. "If anything like the Daleks happens to turn up before we get these two back, call this number. They'll always know how to reach me."

Steve accepted the card with a nod of his head. "Appreciate that. We can handle ourselves around these parts, but I like to know I can get ahold of these two idjits in an emergency."

Jack offered a cheeky grin and winked at the muscular man. "Can't be too careful! Well, if you two are ready to go, I do believe it is time for the bus to be leaving!" he exclaimed jovially.

Tamara hefted her pack over her shoulders, settling her rifle in place. It had been brought along much to the Doctor's unhappy protests, but both Tamara and Ivan had simply proceeded to pack as they felt necessary, blithely ignoring the thin man's complaints. "You heard the man, let's go!"

Ivan settled his own backpack on his shoulders more solidly, one hand absently dropping down to finger the long sword at his hip as if reassuring himself it was still in place. With one last tip of his fingers to his shaggy brow, he followed the odd pair of travellers and his wife out of the diner and into the growing dusk as they moved through the quieting town and towards the waiting TARDIS. "Where we headed?" he finally asked.

The Doctor grinned broadly. "Anywhere you'd like! Do you have a specific place in mind? A time, maybe? Or shall we just spin the wheel of chance and head off at random?"

"Isn't that what you normally do?" Jack quipped, feigning indifference to the Doctor's glare.

"The past," Ivan's guttural response cut off any reply the Doctor could make. "I want to breathe in history, see where we come from, 'n how we got here."

The Doctor's expression settled into one of quiet contentment. "Excellent choice. How far back? World War II? Further back than that?"

Ivan shook his head negatively. "Much further. Lived through WWII once already, remember? No need t' see that part again." The quartet travelled in silence for a few minutes while Ivan considered his options. "I want to go someplace where the date is measured in three digits instead of four."

"Well, that certainly gives us plenty of options!" the Doctor agreed, rubbing his hands together in delight. "I'm sure we can sort something out once we get to the TARDIS!"

It didn't take long for the quartet to reach the TARDIS, and as they walked in the Doctor bounced towards the console, hastily slinging his coat over one of the support struts. The doors swung silently closed behind them, and Jack moved over to stand opposite the Doctor.

"You might want to brace yourselves," Jack called to the novice travellers. "Takeoff can be a bit exciting."

"That's the most exciting bits!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Takeoff and landing! Always thrilling!" He danced around the center console, a mad piper playing a tune only he could hear, flipping levers and slapping buttons. Across from him, Jack did his part to slide a few levers himself, preparing for the trip, and with a grinding, tearing noise of reality being split asunder, the ship began to shudder and jerk. Ivan wrapped one massive hand around the nearest support coral and the other arm around his wife's waist, and the pair swayed and bent with the roll of the deck like seasoned travellers. Once the pitching and yawing of the deck had settled down and the center column continued to slide up and down, producing a more subdued version of the gasping noise, the Doctor spun to face the travelling pair once more.

"Now! The trip has started, and we're in the vortex for a few moments while we decide on a destination. Ivan, did you have anything more specific than just 'the past' in mind?"

Ivan finally released his hold on the ship and his wife, and began to move up towards the Doctor and Jack. "Nothing specific comes to mind," he growled, eyeing the console with intense curiosity. "Suggestions?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but anything he would have said was cut off by a loud, mechanical 'sprang!' from the console, and the entire room was immediately plunged into blackness.

"Doc! What the heck!" Jack exclaimed.

"I have no idea!" the Doctor shot back. Within seconds, light had returned to the room in general, but the console itself was dark and silent. "We're drifting in the vortex!" He immediately fell to his knees and jerked up one of the floor plates, swinging his feet over into the gap. Right before he dropped into the space below the console, he looked up at Jack.

"Check the corridors, see if we've lost power anywhere else in the ship, or if it's just here," he commanded.

Without question, Jack nodded and slipped through the far doors, into the hallway that Ivan and Tamara had seen before. "Wow," Tamara said, her tone a combination of sarcasm and humor. "It's been seventy years since a boy tried the 'gosh, my car broke down I guess we're stranded' routine on me."

The Doctor's head snapped up, mouth gaping wide and fish-like. "What! No, no, no, no! We really _are_ stranded!" he exclaimed.

Tamara laughed, and Ivan hid a small smile in his bushy beard. "I believe you, Pinstripes. But you're awful cute when you get flustered."

Pink tinted the Doctor's cheeks as he made spluttering noises in protest, and Tamara just snickered some more. Before the teasing could continue further, Jack loped back into the console room. "Looks like it's just the console, Doc," he stated as he entered. "Everything else seems to have full power."

The Doctor squinted down into the depths below the console, conversation with Tamara already forgotten. "Hmmm. Well, that's good news at least. Shouldn't be too terribly hard to fix, then. Jack, show Ivan and Tamara a place they can stow their packs, then come back and help me get this mess sorted out. I promised Ivan a trip to the past, and I intend to deliver!" With that, he dropped into the recessed area, and the trio above deck could hear him start to clatter around, muttering to himself indistinctly. Jack smiled indulgently after the vanished Time Lord, then turned to the waiting couple.

"This way, lady and gentleman," he said, bowing slightly with a sweeping gesture towards the back halls. "Allow me to show you to the kitchen, then we'll see if the TARDIS can direct us to an appropriate room."

"Any prohibitions against exploring?" Ivan asked.

Jack frowned in thought, leading the pair into the hall and back towards the small kitchen. It was at least in the same place that Jack remembered it being from earlier. "Not per se, but the TARDIS can get mighty confusing for the first few times you're on board. She's got a lot more room than you'd think just to look at her – I'm pretty sure there are parts of her the Doctor hasn't seen himself in hundreds of years. I'd try to stick to just the areas you know for now, until you get the hang of navigating."

"Well, where's the fun in that?" Tamara exclaimed, trailing along behind. Jack noticed that she kept one hand in constant contact with the TARDIS corridor wall as they walked.

Jack smirked. "Never forget, the TARDIS is more than a little sentient – and more than a little bit of a practical joker. She has been known to spontaneously rearrange corridors and rooms if she's annoyed with someone… or if she thinks it'll be funny."

"Take my chances," Ivan grumbled. "Too much to see 'round here to spend it all in my room." There was a peculiar, almost avaricious gleam in his eyes as he spoke, constantly scanning the corridor and every surrounding doorway as they walked.

Jack shrugged. "Honestly, it's up to the TARDIS in the end. If she doesn't want you poking around, every door you open will lead you back to where she wants you to be," he advised. They exited the kitchen, and Jack opened the next door he came to that he thought might be useful. It revealed a spacious stateroom, complete with over-sized king mattress that looked both wide and long enough to accommodate Ivan's bulk easily, with room left over for Tamara to crawl in beside him. Jack felt himself smile at the TARDIS' thoughtfulness. Being a relatively tall man himself, he knew how difficult it was to find a standard mattress that was comfortably long enough; he couldn't imagine how much worse it was for the giant-sized Ivan. The couple slipped into the room and began poking around, opening up drawers and cupboards – Jack noticed that the TARDIS had equipped their wardrobe with a gun rack to hold both of their rifles. Tamara opened the second door in the room and paused before sighing in contentment.

"Ivan, you can go explore all you want," she said on a sigh. "This here looks like a tub finally big enough to soak all of me in at the same time. I aim to soak."

Curious, Jack moved over to peer over her shoulder and had to swallow a snort. It wasn't so much a bathtub as it was a very small pool, but it was indeed long enough and deep enough for the tall woman to stretch out in comfortably. "Check the bottles. I'm pretty sure you'll find a bubble bath to your liking, as well," he advised, smirking.

Tamara winked at him before tossing her backpack negligently towards the bed. Ivan scooped it out of the air and made sure it landed safely, casting a critical look at his wife's back. "Sounds good to me!" she exclaimed, thrusting her rifle back towards Jack, not bothering to check if he had a grip before she released it and stepped into the luxurious bathroom, slamming the door in his face.

Jack placed the rifle on the gun rack, and turned back to Ivan, who was unslinging his own backpack. "You sure you're going to be okay on your own?" he asked.

Ivan nodded. "Be fine. Been tramping on my own for decades now, Sarge. Ain't been lost yet." He began rummaging through the pack, transferring random items from the backpack to his pockets.

Jack snorted. "There's a first time for everything," he cautioned. "If you aren't back in the console room by the time repairs are completed, I'll have the Doctor come looking for you."

Ivan snorted in return. "Fair enough. Catch ya later, Sarge," he growled. Swinging the pack back onto his back, Ivan followed Jack out of the bedroom, pulling the door securely closed behind them, and strode off in the opposite direction from where they'd come. Jack shook his head at the big man's folly, and headed back for the console room.

* * *

><p>Striding purposefully into the console room, he was greeted by the sounds of hammering coming from beneath the floor panels. Squatting on his heels, Jack peered into the murky depths at his feet. "Everything okay in there?" he called.<p>

The noise ceased, and after a few seconds the Doctor's face appeared in the opening beneath his feet. The Time Lord quirked a half-smile up at Jack. "As good as can be expected," he admitted. "All things considered, it could be much worse – we just shorted out a few couplings that will be easy to reroute. At least this time I won't have to go scrounging for parts!"

Jack nodded in understanding, pushing himself to his feet once more and beginning to shed his coat. He tossed the long garment over the strut next to the Doctor's own brown overcoat, and began rolling up his sleeves. "Where do you need me to start?" he asked.

"If you can access the port side hatch and begin splicing the rotor couplings there, we can shift the connections to bridge the new gap that has appeared. It'll hold for a goodly bit, until I can pick up some new wires and rebuild the couplings completely – just need to drop into the nearest Maplin's." The Doctor ducked out of sight once more as Jack circled around to the opposite side, pulling up the floor panel and slipping into the depths of the TARDIS. He had to admit, this was one of the things he missed about travelling with the Doctor; being able to simply loose himself in tinkering alongside someone who not only understood the same level of technology with which he was most familiar, knew so much more that he was able to pass along.

"So where did you leave our temporary guests?" the Doctor asked after a few more seconds.

Jack chuckled. "Tamara took one look at the bathing facilities that the TARDIS provided and locked herself in the bathroom, and Ivan decided to go exploring."

There was a metallic clatter as something was fumbled, and the Doctor's wide-eyed expression leaned around the pillar they were bracketing. "You didn't let him wander off alone, did you!" he exclaimed.

"Relax, Doc," Jack soothed. "The big guy will be fine. You know the TARDIS won't let him get too lost, and it'll make him happy. What's he going to do, pocket the silver?"

The Doctor's face twisted into an expression that on anyone else, Jack would have called sulky. "That's beside the point," he stated petulantly. "You know how easy it is to get lost in here."

At that, Jack did have to laugh. "Yeah, I know. Might actually do him some good to get temporarily misplaced. Relax, he'll be fine."

The pair lapsed into silent working, although Jack thought he could still periodically hear the Doctor grumbling to himself. They fell into an easy rhythm of work, Jack's process taking longer than the Doctor's due to the lack of handy sonic tool, but work progressing smoothly. He was finally pulled from his concentration by the sound of footsteps padding across the metal grating, and he poked his head above floor level to see Tamara entering the console room.

She was swaddled in a big, red fluffy robe that covered her from neck to knee, with matching fuzzy slippers on her feet. Her damp hair curled around her face, and she smiled at the sight of Jack popping up out of the floor. "You boys having fun down there?" she drawled.

Jack grinned in reply, even as the Doctor's head came into view in response to her words. "Tons," Jack assured her. "I just love fiddling with bits." Jack wiggled his eyebrows at her. Tamara laughed as the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for the robe, Pinstripes," she said, turning towards the Doctor. "Don't know why you have a robe in my size on board, but I found it on the bed when I got out of the bath, so I assume you had to leave it for me." She snuggled the collar up to her chin happily.

"I don't often find robes big enough to fit me," she admitted.

The Doctor offered a bemused smile. "The TARDIS must have left it for you," he admitted. "She's quite the clever girl; always seems to know what you need most at any given moment. I haven't left the console room since we came on board."

"Huh," Tamara grunted. "I have to say, that is mighty cool." She settled onto the bench seat, idly picking up an abandoned magazine that was lying on the seat next to her. She began idly flipping through the magazine, and Jack felt an involuntary twinge in his chest. The image Tamara presented reminded him so much of another former companion that used to do the same thing after a shower: lounge on the bench in her pink robe and slippers, flipping through one of her endless supply of fashion magazines. Jack firmly squelched the memory before it could grow too big.

"So how long is your tinkerin' gonna take?" Tamara asked as she continued to turn pages.

The Doctor ducked back below the lip of the hatch, hiding his expression from both Tamara and Jack, but the former Time Agent knew if he had touched the memory, so had the Time Lord. He let it go without comment. "Should only be a few more hours," the Doctor said brightly, his voice carrying no hint of any emotional turmoil. "Once we finish up here, I'll check the TARDIS computers and see if she's found a match for Ivan's peculiar DNA. Then we can pop back into the past and have you both back home in time for tea!"

Tamara chuckled. "Don't hurry on my account," she chided. "I could get used to a room with a decent-sized bathtub!"

Jack laughed in response. "If you like the tub, just wait 'til I show you the Jacuzzi!" Even without seeing his face, Tamara could hear the leer in his voice, and she tsked at him.

"Now, Mr. Dimples – you know you haveta talk to Ivan about that," she chastised the charming rogue. Jack laughed again, even as the Doctor tsked in disapproval, and returned to concentrating on his work. They fell once more into a companionable silence.

Jack heard the humming first, and realized it was coming from Tamara. It was a pleasant, homey sound, and completely unexpected. Shortly after she began humming, he heard her start to sing quietly to herself, almost absent-mindedly, as though she didn't realize she was actually singing.

_I beg your pardon,_

_I never promised you a rose garden…_

_Along with the sunshine;_

_There's got to be a little rain, sometimes…_

Once again, there was that slight stab of pain, even though Jack knew it was not only unintentional, it was also a complete coincidence. Of all the songs she could have happened to sing, why did it have to be that one?

The Doctor kept working as though he hadn't heard, and Tamara's voice fell back into wordless humming. After nearly an hour of silence between the three, Jack heard the sound of the magazine being dropped onto the bench seat once more and Tamara pushing herself up to her feet. "Well, you boys don't look like you're about to electrocute yourselves any time soon – I'm gonna go get dressed. I'll be back in a few t' see if either of you done started smokin' yet."

"I'd like to say something like that could never happen," Jack called after her retreating back. "But I'd be lying if I said it'd never happened before."

"Hey!" the Doctor protested. A burnt length of wiring came winging around the pillar, and bounced off the side of Jack's head. The door to the hallway closed on Tamara's deep, mellow laugh.

Jack kept working after she was gone. "You okay, Doctor?" he asked, hands still busily stripping and splicing cables.

"I'm perfect!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Why would I be anything less than perfect?"

"Uh-huh." Jack conveyed every ounce of disbelief he could muster in the two syllables, but he didn't push it any further. Even if he needed to talk, Jack knew the Doctor never would.

It wasn't much longer before he'd finished his half of the repairs, and was transferring the cables around the pillar for the Doctor to use. Once the Time Lord had the length of wiring in his grasp, Jack boosted himself back up to the main level, and slid his hatch back in place. "Not much longer now before we can try it out," the Doctor called up to him. "I'll have these wires in place in two shakes. Two shakes… have you ever considered what a curious statement that is, Jack? Two shakes… two shakes of what? And how do you determine what to shake in order to have an accurate measure of time? I mean, really. I can shake my hand faster than I can shake my foot, for example – and I can shake my foot faster than I could shake… ooo, I don't know… a Mandelbarian shaman stick, for example. They're two and a half meters long and the smallest ones generally weigh around 230 kilograms. Not very easy for the average human to shake–"

"It's 'a lamb's tail', Doc," Jack finally interrupted. "Two shakes of a lamb's tail."

The Doctor appeared in the hole once more, giving Jack an absolutely bewildered expression. "Well, that's just ridiculous," he scoffed. "Why would anyone want to shake a lamb's tail? Seems rather rude, if you ask me – and I know rude. _I'm_ rude – not ginger, but rude – and I wouldn't shake a lamb's anything, let alone its tail. I'm fairly certain that would give the poor lamb quite the shock." He disappeared once more, rambling on about the oddity of the human need to grasp the body parts of strangers and fling them about willy-nilly as a form of greeting. He was babbling; Jack knew he was babbling, and knew why he was babbling, but rather than interrupt he simply let the Time Lord wind himself down. As he was wrapping up his diatribe on the peculiar greeting practices of humans as they had evolved on the Tirelius III colony in the 40th century, Tamara rejoined him beside the console dressed once more in her comfortable jeans and flannel shirt.

"That boy can surely talk," she commented, listening to the Doctor's prattle. Jack smirked, acknowledging how true the statement was.

"There! That should do it!" the Doctor exclaimed, oblivious to Tamara's comment. He boosted himself back up onto the deck, and scrambled to his feet. Stepping over the gaping hole, he flipped a few switches on the console, and the time rotor once more surged to life and began sliding up and down with its normal raspy sound.

"Yay!" Tamara cheered, applauding. The Doctor grinned brightly in response, and winked cheekily.

"Told you it wouldn't be a problem!" he said. "Now–"

Before he could say anything further, he was interrupted by a shrill noise that caused Jack to startle. "That's my phone," he explained, moving swiftly towards his cast-aside coat. "Ianto would only call if there was an emergency."

He quickly scrabbled for the pocket, pulling out the small mobile device as it continued to shrill, activating it and bringing it up to his ear. "Yes?"

His expression slid from confused to concerned. "Can you describe them, Ianto? Yeah… yeah… no, doesn't sound like anything I know… How many infected? Have you started evacuation? Good man." Jack turned to face the Doctor, who had adopted a similarly grim expression. "We'll be there as quick as we can. Do what you can to stay out of reach, but try to contain the ones who weren't so lucky." Jack disconnected the call, and stuffed the phone into his pocket.

"We have to get to Cardiff, quick," he stated, moving back to the console to help dial in coordinates. The Doctor began to punch buttons and spin dials, and Tamara moved quickly to shove the hatch plate back in place before someone fell. "Ianto said that three alien… things suddenly appeared in the Plass, and started attacking civilians. Everyone they've wounded has begun to mutate, and are now trying to attack other people."

"I'm assuming he didn't recognize them," the Doctor stated for clarification. "Could he describe them?"

Jack shook his head. "They didn't sound like anything I've ever encountered before. Even though they were moving independently, they've been able to confirm that the aliens are some sort of plant-based life. From what Ianto was describing, they sound like some kind of cross between a giant cactus and a human being. They don't seem to be moving with any purpose or specific goal – they just seem to be lunging at anything warm and moving. Ianto saw one of them try to attack a moving car. Said the thing just bounced off, without any noticeable damage to the alien."

The Doctor frowned in concern. "That does not sound good at all. Tamara, I do apologize but it looks like your husband's trip is going to have to be postponed."

The big woman shrugged. "Not a problem. Sounds like this is a might more important than sight-seeing, anyway. I'll get Ivan up here; you might need both of us."

"You should both stay in the TARDIS, out of harm's way," the Doctor corrected. The tone of the TARDIS engines changed, confirming that they were no longer stationary in the vortex but were indeed moving once again.

As though she hadn't heard the Doctor's protests, Tamara moved over towards the door leading into the TARDIS interior, and pushed it open. Leaning into the hallway, she drew a deep breath. "I-VAN!" she bellowed, her voice seeming unnaturally loud.

After a few moments, they heard a very faint response of "WHAT! I didn't do it!"

"Trouble!" she shouted back. Then she calmly walked back over to stand beside Jack, and looked at the Doctor.

"No offense, Pinstripes, but didn't you learn nothing from the Trashcan Incident?" she finally said. "If we can handle a few of your Daleks, I think we're big enough and ugly enough to handle whatever this turns out to be, too. And if it turns out I'm wrong… well, we're grown-ups. It's our choice t' make."

More quickly – and more silently – than Jack would have expected, Ivan came ghosting into the console room. Tamara took one look at him and groaned, clamping her hands to her hips, arms akimbo. "Oh, hell no you are not bringing that thing home with you!" she scolded.

Jack and the Doctor both spun to face Ivan, and both gaped at what they saw. Ivan, still wearing his pack and weapons strapped to his back, was carrying a metal cage in his right hand. The cage itself was slightly larger than an ottoman, and crouched within it was a fuzzy green creature about the size of a hefty Pekinese. The beast crouched on its hind legs, forepaws held curled against its chest while large, liquid eyes scanned the surrounding area. Its lime-green fur looked like it would be silky to the touch, and its darker green hairless ears were tufted by long strands of hair the same shade. "Wha… wha… where did you get _that_?" the Doctor finally managed to gasp.

Ivan shrugged. "Heard somethin' in one o' your storage rooms, sounded like a rat. Found this little feller gnawing on some wiring, had t' figure that couldn't be good for your ship." He gently lowered the cage to the deck, sliding it against a wall so it would be out of the way.

"Kinda figured y' wouldn't want me to splatter its little brains all over yer wall. Decided t' live trap it instead. Glad I brought a couple traps along for just in case," the big man growled.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"It's a Rigellian Treewee," the Doctor said. Even as he stared, confounded, at the timid creature, his hands kept moving on the console, guiding the TARDIS to its destination. "They're completely harmless – well, I say completely, for some reason they have an almost compulsive craving to chew on wiring insulation. They're much like your Earth chinchillas, actually." The Doctor cocked his head. "How on _earth_ did you get in here, little one?"

"Is now really the time, Pinstripes?" Tamara cut him off before he could start off on a tangent about the little animal. "You said that thing is harmless – Jack's buddy said the things he found aren't. Priorities, man, priorities!"

The Doctor gave himself a bit of a shake. "Right, right – good point. We're about to materialize. Once we've landed, I can check the scanners and find out exactly what we're facing."

Ivan simply grunted, and he and Tamara moved towards the door to wait. "Tell us what to do when we land, even if all we can do is get people out of the way," she told him.

She and Ivan both weathered the bumpy landing without a problem, and the Doctor quickly flipped on the external sensors. He growled something in a language the TARDIS refused to translate as the scanners displayed the chaos going on outside. The aliens were moving through the Plass in seemingly random directions; Jack could see civilians fleeing from the scene, even if he couldn't hear them, although it looked like the things had gotten to several innocent bystanders. He could see several humans collapsed in scattered heaps, one or two of them trying to push themselves back up to their feet, but even through the limited range of the scanner, Jack could see something was wrong with them. "Varga plants," the Doctor spat in disgust. "Sub-sentient mobile plants, native of Skaro. The Daleks must have had a few spores with them when they entered Earth's atmosphere, and the Rift energy carried them here to Cardiff. Venomous – one scratch from their poisoned thorns, and the toxin begins to rewrite the host's genetic sequence to breed more Vargas."

"Can we kill 'em?" Ivan growled.

"Yes, they can be killed. They are just very, very difficult to–"

"IANTO!" Jack shouted, his voice laced with fear. He'd seen the young Welshman come into view on the scanner, backing quickly away from a mutated human that was trying to attack him. Ianto was fending the human off with what Jack assumed was a can of Weevil spray – he knew the young man would hesitate to kill a human until he had no choice – but he didn't see the full Varga moving up behind him. Jack would never be able to get out there in time to prevent Ianto from being pierced by the poisoned thorn.

"Get this door open!" Ivan roared. The Doctor reacted instinctively, slapping his hand down on the release switch, causing the main doors to swing open. Before they were even fully open, Ivan was moving, slipping gracefully through the widening crack. Tamara was quick on his heels, Jack and the Doctor not far behind.

With a bellowed roar that seemed to shake the very stones beneath their feet and drew every eye, human and alien alike, right to him, Ivan crossed the distance between the TARDIS and the pale Welshman in only a few rushing strides of his long legs. Even as he moved, Ivan brought the sword at his waist up in a fluid, well-practiced move across the Varga's body from what on a human would have been its left hip to its right shoulder, the edged weapon not even slowed in its swing. Almost gracefully, the Varga's body parted and slid away in two halves, toppling with a rotten-vegetable sounding squish to the plaza stones. Continuing the swing, Ivan whirled in place and brought the flat of his blade down on the forehead of the poisoned human, knocking him unconscious. Ivan cast a quick glance over Ianto's pale and trembling form, determining he was unharmed, and quickly thundered off across the Plass towards the next Varga even as it was moving to engage.

"Ianto!" Jack exclaimed, rushing to the Welshman's side. "Are you okay? Did it stick you at all?"

"J-jack?" Ianto's voice quavered slightly. His eyes were wide and glassy, as though he were about to lapse into shock, before he gave himself a quick shake and swallowed heavily. "No… no, I'm fine. I saw what those thorns did. None of them got me or the others… What… who was that?" Ianto started panting even as his wide-eyed gaze tracked the massive man's movements around the plaza as he hacked his way through several more Vargas without slowing. Once he'd demolished enough of them to have a moment of breathing space around him, Ivan thrust his verdigris-stained blade towards the sky, another primal roar echoing from the stones and surrounding buildings in challenge.

"WAAAAAGH!" Ivan roared, calling the Vargas to him. It was not a word in any known language, and the Vargas themselves had no form of communication, but it resonated on a primal level that the alien plant creatures instinctively recognized as a challenge and a threat to their supposed dominance. They moved to confront the creature that defied them, and fell quickly to his scything blade. Tainted humans, succumbing to the mutating effects of the Vargas' poison, also moved to join the fight but were swiftly rendered unconscious by a blow from the big man. The aliens received no such mercy.

Jack grinned, gripping the Welshman's shoulders as though to reassure himself that the young man was real and whole and unharmed next to him. "He's a friend we picked up over in America. That's Ivan – this is his wife, Tamara," Jack introduced the tall woman who moved up beside him.

Tamara smiled and nodded once to the dazed young man. "Nice t' meetcha, kiddo," she said. "Think we might wanna do somethin' 'bout these people while my husband deals with your little problem?"

Giving a start as though hit with a mild electric shock, Ianto shook himself and began to move. "Oh, excuse me! Of course! I've got some zip ties we can restrain them with…" He pulled a large bundle of long black plastic strips from the pocket of his coat, offering them out to the others.

"Excellent thinking!" the Doctor exclaimed. He was relieved to see that not only was Ivan showing some level of restraint in not engaging in the senseless slaughter of humans, but Jack's Torchwood team had also been making every effort to subdue and restrain instead of outright kill. He helped himself to a handful of the zip ties, and bounded off towards the next closest unconscious human.

"If we can get them all restrained, I'm sure we can whip up an antidote for them!" he called back over his shoulder.

Ianto took a deep breath, and leveled a gaze at Jack. "You will, of course, explain everything?" While it had been phrased as a question, it was quite clearly a statement.

Jack smiled in relief at seeing his Welshman safe and whole. "Delighted to. Later. Let's get these people triaged."

"Bloody hell, Jack!" they were interrupted by Owen's harsh tones as he ran up behind the trio. "Where the devil did you manage to find a hill giant?"

"I take it back, Mr. Dimples," Tamara interjected before Jack could speak, eyeballing Owen from head to toe. "_This_ is the puny one I'd throw back. You might be a decent snack size after all."

Owen pulled himself up to his full height in indignation – which still didn't clear Tamara's shoulders. "Now see here, She-Hulk–" he started.

"Later, Owen," Jack cut him off. "We've got wounded. Get busy, and don't get in the big guy's way. He's liable to step on you without noticing."

Snapping his jaw shut with a clack. Owen snorted once and glared at Tamara before storming off towards the downed humans, moving quickly to bind both hands and feet. Tamara knelt by the first man Ivan had felled, chuckling to himself. "Oh, I like that one," she muttered. "Little Bantam Boy's got some fire in him!" She took some ties from Ianto's slack hand, and after checking the unconscious man's pulse, made sure he was restrained.

Jack started laughing, relieved that the crisis seemed to be coming under control quickly. He pressed a quick, hard kiss to Ianto's lips, snatched some zip ties of his own, and ran off into the Plass. After a few seconds, Ianto shook his head and followed, moving to follow in Ivan's wake as he dispatched both alien and subverted alike.

* * *

><p>Before Ianto had truly had a chance to reconcile himself to the presence of the two strangers with Jack, the crisis was over and nothing remained but the cleanup. The initial Vargas incursion of three entities had developed quickly into over a half-dozen of the vicious alien plants, who had managed to poison 20 Cardiff natives during the attack. The Doctor, Jack, Ianto, Owen and Tamara had moved quickly through the downed humans, binding their wrists and ankles until something could be done for them. Ivan finished dispatching the last of the Vargas and sauntered over to where his wife knelt by one of the victims. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and quickly wiped the alien gore from the length of his blade before sheathing it.<p>

"Told you kudzu was evil," he growled at her. His eyes were bright and wild, as though he were still spoiling for a fight.

Tamara offered up a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, dear – kudzu is evil. I never disputed that with you."

"So what are we doing now?" Ivan asked.

"Now we get these people down to the Hub so we can begin treatment," Jack said, suddenly beside the pair. "This is going to take a while to get these people moved."

"Then I guess we better get started," Tamara sighed. Ianto and Owen had moved to one of the unconscious civilians, Ianto grabbing his shoulders, Owen his feet. Tamara scooped the nearest person into her arms, carrying them bridal style, and began following the pair.

For his part, Ivan scooped one limp form up under each arm. Jack marveled for a moment before shaking his head, and then knelt to shift one of the unconscious forms into a fireman's carry and fell in line with the others. "Okay, maybe not so long," he muttered with a grin.

* * *

><p>They were able to get most of the victims onto the invisible lift. Ivan, Tamara and Jack brought the last four down by the main door so that the Doctor, Ianto, Owen, Tosh and Gwen could get started in making everyone as comfortable as possible before the Doctor began trying to create an antidote. He seemed rather confident that it wouldn't be much problem at all to make one, and Jack could only hope that the alien would indeed live up to his expectations.<p>

Tamara was delighted by the giant cog that rolled aside to allow them into the Hub proper. "How very 'secret lair-ish' of you!" she exclaimed. "Do you all have decoder rings, as well?"

Jack snorted. "No, but we do have com units. Does that count?"

"Eh, close enough," she agreed. Ianto and Owen stepped up to take one of the two unconscious victims from Ivan, and the trio began following the pair of workers back into the main area of the Hub. They'd placed the civilians on every available flat surface, and covered stretches of the floor with anything that even resembled a blanket, finally resorting to folded up pieces of cardboard to provide some modicum of cushioning and protection from the chill until the victims could be seen to. As Ivan handed over his last burden, a sharp, shrill cry overhead drew his attention. His head snapped up, hunter's eyes immediately locking onto the movement of the huge winged shape that glided overhead.

Ivan planted both fists on his hips as he watched the agitated reptile circle the upper reaches of the underground space. Without lowering his head, his eyes cut over to Tamara, who was also staring at the pterodactyl, then immediately snapped back to the moving creature.

"Woman," he growled, "I don't wanna hear nothin' outta you ever again about what I drag home."

Tamara nodded slowly. "Duly noted."


	2. Cleanup, And A New Conflict Appears

**Author's note:** _this is a work of derivative fiction, used under the fair use clause of the creative commons. No copyright infringement is intended. Please be advised that this is a purely self-indulgent experiment in creative writing, used as an exercise to try to rehabilitate atrophied creative muscles, and does include the introduction of original characters. _

_IMPORTANT NOTE: This story is most definitely into the AU territory, and isn't going to be looking back. Please don't try to fit this anywhere coherently into either the Doctor Who or Torchwood canon timelines; the great gloriousness of fanfiction is that I am free to cherry-pick the parts of each one that I like best. So, in my world, Owen never died and came back, and both he and Tosh are both still alive and well in The Hub. The Doctor has, at least, travelled with Martha Jones; he may or may not have travelled with Donna, you'll know when I do. As before, please consider this story to be a strong 'M' rating for language and innuendo; there is no smut, and there won't be any. There may someday be gratuitous violence, but not today. More chapters are in the works; I wish I could give you anything resembling an update schedule, but as I said, this is an attempt to defeat a decades-long writer's block. You stick with me, and I'll stick with this. Promise! All feedback is welcome - and I hope you will indulge me, and enjoy. Watch out for the original characters; they're still wandering around here somewhere…_

* * *

><p>While the Doctor and Tosh worked at a shared terminal to analyze the Vargas' poison, Owen dragged Gwen into helping him do a more thorough physical checkup of the injured, binding wounds as necessary. The most serious injuries were mild concussions, some mild contusions and abrasions, all well within Owen's resources to patch. Jack led Ivan and Tamara up to the conference room to be out of the way while they waited to see if either team would need them. Ianto retreated to the safety of his coffee nook and began working his magic on behalf of his coworkers.<p>

"So…" Tamara began. "Pteranodon?"

Jack quirked a grin at her. "Would you believe me if I said she followed me home and I decided to keep her?" he answered.

"I believe that would be how you acquired me, not Myfannwy, Sir," Ianto interjected smoothly as he entered the room carrying a serving tray. He placed a cup of coffee in front of Jack, one in front of Tamara, and a mug of tea in front of Ivan, then took his usual seat beside Jack with his own mug. He offered the couple across from them an enigmatic smile.

"I hope you don't mind," he continued. "The Doctor mentioned that you might prefer tea as opposed to coffee, sir."

Ivan grunted, and lifted the mug to his nose with a surprisingly delicate grasp. "Don't call me sir," he muttered. "Never did get any rank in the Army." He sniffed lightly at the steaming brew in his mug, and made a pleased grumble. "Old Sea Captain Orange Pekoe Jasmine. Nice blend."

"I'm glad you approve," Ianto conceded with a slight tilt of his head.

Tamara grinned, and lifted her own mug, taking a careful sip of her own steaming brew. "I like this one, Dimples," she stated. "Pleases my husband, makes a mean cup of coffee, and cute as a button. Definite keeper."

Jack laughed. "I like to think so. Allow me to properly introduce Ianto Jones, the office manager for Torchwood 3 – and the man who keeps me from losing everything including my own head on a daily basis."

A light blush tinted Ianto's cheeks as he ducked his head slightly. "I'm not all that, Sir. Just a tea boy."

Jack leaned back in his chair, scooping up his own mug, and laughed. "And he's so deliciously modest, too," he quipped. "Ianto, this is Ivan and Tamara Makenzie. Ivan served with me in the Great War. The first one," he added, carefully watching Ianto's reaction.

Only a slight widening of the younger man's eyes betrayed his surprise; beyond that small response, he offered no discernable reaction. "And you found him again in America? I would ask what are the odds, but it is, after all, you."

Tamara chuckled. "What can I say, Babycakes," she said. "Odd things happen around this man of mine. I like to call him my little weirdness magnet."

Ivan lowered his mug to the table with a dull clunk. "So what have you got yourself into around these parts, Sarge?" he grumbled, leveling a narrow-eyed gaze at Jack. Ianto simply arched one eyebrow in question at the appellation Ivan chose to use. "Seems a bit extreme for one ex-Army officer t' be fiddlin' with."

Jack contemplated the couple before him in thoughtful silence before he finally spoke. "Normally, you would never be allowed to see this much of the operation unless you were being recruited for a position with Torchwood, but considering what we've just been through in the past few days – and what you've got hiding in your own back yard, so to speak – I think it's pretty safe to fill you in on some of the details. Cardiff sits on a Rift through time and space, a leak in the universe, if you will. Energy trickles through here – cosmic, temporal, you name it. Along with that energy, random detritus throughout time and space washes up with it. Most of it is random junk, like the stuff you've got piled up in the vault back in your home town. Some of it isn't – like those Varga plants you just took care of, or Myfannwy. That's what we do. We collect the stuff that washes up around here, catalogue it, store it, or neutralize it when need be."

"And all this takes place in Wales, in front of God and everybody, and nobody says 'boo' about it?" Tamara marveled.

"That's one way to put it," Jack agreed. "Someday, the Earth will be ready to interact with the rest of the universe – but not right now. The average person isn't ready to cope with a person from a different planet next door, when most of them don't know how to deal with someone from a different part of _this_ planet. We work very hard to minimize the number of civilians who are aware of what actually goes on out there."

"Which is a task that just became exponentially more difficult," a new voice stated from the doorway. The four seated in the conference room swiveled to see Gwen standing in the entry, arms crossed, and glaring at Jack. "Jack, was it really necessary to drag _all_ the civilians down here?" He couldn't be sure, but Jack thought he caught a quick flash of her eyes towards Ivan and Tamara at the conference table.

Jack offered her a small smirk in response. "I suppose not," he conceded. "After all, we could have just left the wounded sprawled all over the Plass – I'm sure Owen wouldn't have had any problems triaging the injuries while the Doctor administered the antivenin for the Varga poisoning. When the police showed up to find out what all the screaming was about, we could've put them to work as nurses or something."

Gwen flushed red in a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "Don't be foolish, Jack," she snapped, stomping into the conference room proper and flinging herself into a chair. "Of course we couldn't have left them lying about untreated. I simply meant we now have another problem to cope with. I suppose we could Retcon them all, but how are we going to get them out of here, and where are we going to put them once we _do_ move them out?"

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "I've already been giving that some thought, and I'm pretty sure I've got an answer."

"Martha?" Ianto interjected quietly.

Jack's grin was more genuine this time. "There you go, reading my mind again," he chuckled. "Martha should be able to mobilize a UNIT medical unit that can transport the injured to a proper facility once we have the antivenin administered. They're already familiar with where the Hub is located, and as long as we can transport the civilians out through the parking garage, we can keep the UNIT soldiers themselves out of our hair down here. Problem solved." Jack leaned back once more with a self-satisfied smirk on his face for Gwen, and began to rock slightly in his chair. "Will that work for you?"

Gwen's expression still looked vaguely sour. "It doesn't fix everything, but I suppose it is the best we can do with the current situation. Shall I call Martha for you?"

Jack waved his hand negligently. "Nah, I'll take care of it in a few minutes. Let's see what kind of time frame we're working with in getting the injured treated, first. No use having the UNIT boys on standby if it's going to be hours before we're ready for them."

Before Gwen could say anything further, Owen came shuffling into the conference room and flopped loosely into the first available chair. "Thanks ever so much for bailing on me with those last few patients, Gwen," he snarked.

Gwen thrust her chin forward, tilting her head up at the same time. "You don't need me to hold your hand, Owen," she snapped back. "I needed to talk to Jack about what happens next."

Owen rolled his eyes and sighed. "Of course you did," he grumbled.

"Now, children, remember to use your company manners in front of guests," Jack chastised them both mildly. "Ivan, Tamara, allow me to introduce my senior field agent, Gwen Cooper, and our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Owen Harper. Much like a fungus, they both do eventually grow on you."

Gwen glared at Jack, making an inarticulate noise of protest, while Owen huffed. "Just you remember who does the annual medicals around here," he stated.

Tamara grinned at him, even as Ivan leaned back comfortably in his chair, sipping at his mug of tea. "So, Bantam Boy," she said. "How's it going out there?"

Owen swiveled to face her, arching one eyebrow. "Bantam Boy?" he repeated. "Do I _look_ like the kind of tosser who has a cape and tights in his closet?"

Tamara simply grinned more broadly. "Nah, but you definitely look like a pint sized stack o' feisty – just the way I like 'em."

"Pint sized!" Owen exclaimed. "Listen here, honey–"

A piercing whistle brought Owen's rant to a halt, and Jack leaned forward over the table. "Now that I have your attention… Argue later, report now. I'm assuming you've done all you can, and that's why you're here, Owen?"

With one last glare at Tamara, Owen swiveled to face Jack. "As much as I can do, without actually waking anyone up," he agreed with Jack. "All the bleeding's stopped – at least what I can see – and unless you want me to start drilling holes in people's heads at random to double-check, that's as good as it's going to get for now. Until Mister Wonderful down there comes up with something, I'm done."

"Was anyone seriously injured?" Jack asked in concern.

Owen shrugged noncommittally, making a vague waffling gesture with his hand. "Not intrinsically, but there's always the chance of complications from any of a number of blows to the head. Here's hoping Cormoran here hasn't cracked anybody's skull, yeah?"

At that moment, Tosh came staggering carefully into the conference room, looking somewhat pale, being assisted by the Doctor. "What happened to Tosh?" Jack all but demanded, concerned.

"Oh, she'll be fine! Perfectly fine!" The Doctor stated, although he did look a little sheepish. "I may have… introduced her to some advanced maths she wasn't quite ready to see yet, though."

"I think I may have to lie down for a bit," Tosh mumbled. "That shouldn't work… shouldn't even _exist_… but I saw it on my computer…" It was unclear who exactly Tosh thought she was talking to, but her eyes were focused somewhere on the middle distance beyond the confines of the conference room.

Jack frowned at the Doctor. "You broke my tech specialist. I hope you're happy."

After he got Tosh settled gently into one of the chairs around the conference room table, the Doctor scrubbed his hands self-consciously through his hair, which did absolutely nothing for the wildness of the brown thatch. "I didn't _mean_ to," he stated emphatically.

Tosh gave herself a solid shake, finally focusing on Jack. "I'm fine, Jack, really," she said, offering her commanding officer a small smile. "It's just… I've never seen anything so beautiful and so frightening at the same time. I thought I was good at advanced mathematics, but the formulas he was typing up…"

The Doctor smirked at her a little. "You might say they are truly out of this world," he quipped.

Jack huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes at the Time Lord. "Nice, Doc, real nice. Any luck on an antivenin?"

The time travelling alien rewarded the entire table with a bright grin at that question. "Of course! Got your systems synthesizing a batch of it right now, should be ready to start dosing in about three hours or so!"

Jack clapped his hands together, the sharp retort making Gwen and Owen startle slightly, then rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. "Wonderful! I'll go call Martha Jones, and have her get a UNIT medical team to the underground parking as soon as possible. Ianto, would you be so kind as to order us in some takeaway while we wait? Doc, how long do you think it will take the antivenin to begin working once it's administered?"

With a quick nod of his head, Ianto rose to move out of the conference room to take care of ordering food, while the Doctor frowned in concentration. "Mmmm… My best estimate, you'll see the first indications of responding to the antidote within the first 45 minutes to one hour, but it's going to take at least 24 hours before the effects of the Varga toxin is completely reversed," he finally said.

Jack nodded in understanding, then pushed back from the conference room table. "Sounds great. I'll let Martha know when I call her. Doc, if you could go grab your little hitchhiker from the TARDIS, Ianto will make sure the poor thing gets fed something other than the old girl's insulation cables. Owen, Tosh, you keep our guests entertained until food gets here – take 'em down to see Janet if you can't think of anything better to do. Gwen, call Andy down the station, make sure the Cardiff PD know we're handling the medical care of all those injured during the attack, and find out what the police are calling it this time. I don't think they're going to be able to sell a gas leak for this one. I'll be in my office, talking to Martha."

The Doctor grinned in reply, and bounced out of the conference room – presumably to fetch the Rigellian Treewee from the TARDIS – Jack following close on his heels to head for his own private office. Tosh looked up in mild confusion from contemplating the conference room table, and gave a small start when she spotted Ivan and Tamara sitting at the table.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't… who are you?" Her expression danced quickly from confusion to fright and back to confusion in fractions of seconds. Tamara smiled at the small Asian woman kindly.

"I'm Tamara Makenzie, this is my husband, Ivan." She jerked her thumb at the silent giant seated next to her. For his part, the bearded man gave the tech specialist a slight nod.

"Anata o mitasu tame ni yorokobi ga soredesu," he muttered. (It is a pleasure to meet you.)

Tosh looked surprised. "Anata ga nihongo o hanasu?" she asked. (You speak Japanese?)

Ivan smirked slightly. "Bōdenaguru shutoku suru dakede jūbun." Tosh laughed. (Just enough to get beat up in bars.) "Done a little a this 'n that in my day, travelled some in Europe n' Asia, picked up a few words here n' there," Ivan clarified further in his deep base rumble.

"Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Makenzie are friends of Jack's," Gwen interjected, her voice and expression still indicating her displeasure. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go call Andy." With sharp steps, she hurried from the conference room.

Looking somewhat embarrassed, Tosh swiveled her gaze back to the couple seated across from her. "So… how do you know Jack?" she asked.

Tamara and Ivan watched the rapidly retreating field agent before they exchanged looks, and Tamara rolled her eyes, smirking. She swiveled back towards the table to answer Tosh's question, but addressed her next words to her husband. "That girl needs to relax a bit," Tamara observed. "Seems a might uptight, y' ask me." Ivan grunted his agreement, and Tamara turned her attention back to Tosh with a smile.

"Don't pay him no mind, Miss Tosh," she said. "Ivan is usually a man of few words. Apparently, the big lump sitting beside me served in the first Great War with your Captain back when he was still just a Sergeant. He and the pinstriped fella washed up in our town a few days ago and helped us clear out a nest of Devil's Trashcans. Watchmawhosits…" she hesitated, trying to remember the unusual word the Doctor had used to name the invaders.

"Daleks," Ivan muttered.

Tamara snapped her fingers excitedly. "That was the word! Daleks!" she exclaimed. "Apparently, Pinstripes has been fighting those things off n' on for years, so he stopped in to lend a hand. Ivan took a bullet for him, they offered us a joyride in Pinstripes' go-buggy, then we got the call about your little killer kudzu problem, and here we are!"

Owen blinked at the tall woman as she gave them both a quick synopsis of the previous few days. "Y'know, I'm pretty sure you were speaking some form of English just then, but bugger all if I understood half of it."

"Nah," Tamara corrected with a quick shake of her head. "Pretty sure I'm speaking American – which would explain why you don't understand half of what I'm saying, Bantam Boy."

Owen scowled fiercely at the big woman. "I think maybe it's time for you two to meet Janet," he growled.

* * *

><p>After completing her phone conversation with Andy Davidson, Gwen stomped her way into Jack's office and waited for him to conclude his call with Martha. After he said his final goodbye to the former Companion, the smile slid from his face and he sighed, turning to face Gwen. "Let's have it," he said. "What is the Cardiff PD saying about today's incident?"<p>

Gwen huffed out a frustrated gust of breath. "Apparently, since no one saw anything conclusively, it was a steer that escaped from the slaughterhouse, and rampaged through the Plass," she told him.

Jack's mind boggled briefly. "Do we even have a slaughterhouse anywhere in this area?"

Gwen threw her hands up towards the ceiling. "I have no idea. Maybe one escaped from a cargo freighter at the docks," she snapped. She crossed her arms and glared at Jack.

Jack found himself sighing once more. "Yes?" he prompted.

"You've answered the problem of the injured civilians," she told him. "What about the problem of your… friends? When do you intend to Retcon them?"

Jack leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach. "I don't," he stated simply.

Gwen's thrust both clenched fists down by her sides. "What do you mean, you don't!" she exclaimed. "Jack! They aren't Torchwood! You can't have random strangers wandering around out there, knowing what we do and where to find us!"

"First of all, they aren't random strangers – I've known Ivan Makenzie for decades, we simply lost touch after The War. Second, even if they were 'random' strangers, I've seen them in action. I should be so lucky as to have the pair of them as field agents," he retorted. "Let it go, Gwen. I'm not going to Retcon them."

"But Jack! You didn't hesitate to use that stuff on me the first time I came 'round!" she snapped back, a hint of a whine creeping into her voice.

Jack arched one finely shaped eyebrow at her. "Yeah, and I'd never met you before that day – and you have to admit, you were pretty darn random." He offered the irate Welsh woman a cheekie smirk.

"Oh!" Gwen exclaimed in wordless frustration.

"Leave it, Gwen. I trust both Ivan and Tamara to be able to keep a secret – they've already got a great big one to keep, what's one more? The Doctor trusts them as well, otherwise he wouldn't have invited them along for the ride – and even if I didn't have personal experience with them, his word will always be good enough for me." Jack's tone was very firm, cutting off any further protest from Gwen. His gaze shifted up past her shoulder, and his face relaxed into a genuine smile. "Looks like the Doctor is back with his little hitchhiker. Come meet the little guy. Or girl. I have no way of knowing."

Before Gwen could carry the argument any further, Jack stood from his desk and swept past her, back out into the Hub proper. She had no choice but to follow or be left behind. Jack made his way back over to the Doctor and Ianto, who had helped the gangly Time Lord maneuver his way inside with the large cage containing the Treewee. The lime-green creature was crouched in the very middle of the cage, as far from either man on each end as it could get, its front paws wrapped around the wire bars of its cage. Both ears were swiveling almost non-stop, and its small, dark-green nose twitched continuously. Gwen's ire of a moment before slid away into a delighted smile as she looked at the fuzzy animal.

"Oh my god! It's _adorable_!" she cooed, walked up to peer into the cage. The Treewee tried to make itself even smaller, pulling away from her as she approached.

"Poor little thing is terrified," the Doctor crooned, sidling slowly away from the cage a half-step, trying not to loom over the caged animal. "I have no idea how long it's been trapped inside the TARDIS. Poor thing is probably half-starved."

Ianto frowned at the little animal in concerned. "What will it eat? Is it safe to feed it normal Earth-type food, or does it need a special diet?"

The Doctor shrugged noncommittally. "Rigellian Treewees are truly omnivorous; it's a survival adaptation of the species. They really can and will eat anything edible. Have you ever raised a chinchilla? If so, anything you'd feed one of them, you can feed a Treewee."

Ianto's expression turned pensive for a moment, and he dipped one hand into his coat pocket. He pulled out a cellophane packet that crinkled as he unfolded it, revealing a bag of fruit and nut trail mix. "Didn't have time for breakfast this morning," he explained in an aside to Jack. "So I picked this up on the way in. Maybe it'll eat some of this?"

Ianto dipped his hand into the bag and pulled out a slice of dried banana. With a gentle motion, he tossed the chip into the cage, not directly at the timid Treewee, but onto the floor partway between himself and the little alien. Its nose began to twitch even more furiously than before, and its head swiveled so that its snout was pointed directly at the banana chip – all without taking its eyes off of either Gwen or Ianto. After a momentary hesitation, it darted forward and grabbed the banana chip with its front paws, hunkering down where it had landed and immediately beginning to gnaw on the dried fruit. It was gone in seconds. Ianto tossed it a piece of dried pineapple, this time close enough for the Treewee to reach it after only a few steps. The creature snatched up the pineapple and devoured it as quickly as the banana. The little green alien was so hungry, it took only a few more pieces tossed into the cage before it was reaching through the bars to accept bits of trail mix directly from Ianto's fingers.

Jack smiled indulgently at the young man as he carefully fed each piece to the captive creature. "So, Doc, is this something I need to worry about having a negative impact on Earth's biosphere? 'Cause I don't think you're gonna get it back now."

The Doctor grinned back at the handsome ex-time agent. "No more impact than if you had a chinchilla, honestly. Don't think you're going to find too many of those running loose in Cardiff, now are you?" The Doctor shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, bouncing on his toes. "Were you able to speak with the lovely Dr. Jones?" he asked.

With a final pat to Ianto's shoulder, Jack moved towards the autopsy bay, where the majority of the civilian patients were laid out and waiting. "I got through, no problem. She'll be here in," and here Jack flipped up the cover to his vortex manipulator, doing a rapid calculation in his head before continuing. "About six hours. Once you've got the antidote ready, we'll start administering doses and moving these people up to the parking garage. We should be able to keep them sedated until UNIT gets here to start packing them off to hospitals and getting them all back home safely."

"Excellent plan!" the Doctor agreed. "Teamwork, that's what I like to see! We'll have these people back home in no time, then we can be on our way!"

A delicate clearing of a throat caught their attention, and Jack and the Doctor turned to find Ianto watching them with a tiny frown on his face. He had moved up behind the pair of time travellers while their attention was diverted to the supine civilians, and Jack smothered his immediate laugh at the sight of the vividly-green alien chinchilla (for lack of a better description, he thought) that had somehow wound up perched on Ianto's shoulder, and was reaching down to pluck trail mix tidbits out of his suit coat's breast pocket. Jack could just see the fuzzy tip of its tail peeking out from the opposite side of Ianto's neck.

"So you'll be off again immediately, then, Sir?" he questioned softly. But Jack could hear the concern and worry in his voice, even if no one else could.

Jack stepped up close to the young man, and grasped his biceps. The Treewee blinked at him suspiciously, but kept right on eating. "Only for a bit, Yan," he reassured the young man. "I promised the Doctor that I'd ride along for Tamara and Ivan's trip in the TARDIS. We shouldn't be gone long, and we'll be back before you know it." He offered the besuited man a glittering smile. Jack was the only man known who could lace a smile with suggestiveness and innuendo to that particular degree.

"You could always come with us, y'know. Whole lot more room to play naked hide and seek on the TARDIS…" he let the sentence trail off suggestively.

Ianto blushed, then paled immediately. "Thank you, but no, Sir. My place is here, minding the Hub," he declined with a small shake of his head. Jack knew the thought of travelling to alien planets terrified the young Welshman, but he still had to offer – still had to hope. Maybe someday Ianto would change his mind, but that time was obviously not today.

Any further conversation was interrupted by the sound of voices and laughter coming from the lower levels, preceding the return of Owen, Tosh, Ivan and Tamara returning from the cells. Tosh was giggling, uselessly trying to cover her mirth with one hand, while Tamara laughed outright. Owen had an expression of consternation crawling across his face – or perhaps constipation, it was hard to tell with the volatile medic at times – and Jack was almost certain he saw a bit of a smirk hiding in Ivan's beard. Owen's gaze sought out Jack where the other man was standing on the catwalk. "Wouldn't 've believed it if I hadn't seen it for m'self," Owen grumped. "Janet… likes him, for lack of a better description."

"Fear. Not like, fear. Predator sensing a bigger predator," Ivan rumbled in correction.

Tamara snorted. "You just keep telling yourself that, honey. That girl… er, female… was smitten on sight," she teased her husband. She moved up beside the looming man and grabbed a fistful of his beard, tugging on it until he bent down far enough for her to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Whatever she is, she's got good taste in men," she quipped, smiling at him. Ivan grinned in response to his wife.

Tosh split off from the group and moved back to her workstation, checking on the progress of the antivenin the Doctor had set into production, while Owen bounded up the steps to stand beside Jack.

"Seriously, Jack," he continued. "I've never seen a weevil do that before. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was rolling over and exposing her throat in some sort of… submission ritual, or something." Still agitated, Owen raked one hand back through his hair. "She's not even that docile for _me_!"

"Poor Owen," Jack mock-pouted. "Do you feel like your place in Janet's heart is threatened?"

Owen snorted. "Welcome to it, mate," he shot back. "I say we send the half-giant out next time we get a Rift alert, see if all weevils respond to him the same way or if it's just Janet."

"While that could prove interesting, with any luck the Makenzies will be long gone by the next time a weevil shows up," Jack responded, turning away from the conversation and towards Tosh.

"How goes it, Miss Sato?" he asked.

Tosh offered up a shy smile for her tall Captain, and tapped a few keys on her keyboard. "We can start producing doses any time you're ready, Jack."

"Best news I've heard all day!" Jack exclaimed. He whirled back to the others, and began issuing orders. "Gwen, Ianto, Tamara – head up to the parking garage, start preparing a place for the injured to wait for UNIT transport to arrive. Doctor, if you would help Owen and Tosh start preparing the doses, Ivan and I will carry people upstairs as you're finished."

The others made various noises of ascent and began to move off, Tamara following Ianto while Ivan followed Owen back down to the autopsy bay. Gwen hesitated as the others left, catching Jack's sleeve as he went to pass.

"Jack, you need to take care of this as soon as possible," she hissed at him.

"Let it go, Gwen. I am not retconing either Ivan or Tamara," he responded, making a brief slashing motion with one hand.

"Protocol clearly states–" Jack cut her off before she could go any further.

"Yeah, and _I_ clearly stated to drop it." His tone this time was very sharp, and Gwen finally snapped her teeth closed over the next thing she was going to say – but he could see by the look in her eyes that she wasn't about to give up completely. She was just going to let it go for now. Hopefully, by the time he'd gotten back from his trip with the Doctor and the Makenzies, she'd have this particular bee out of her bonnet and he wouldn't have to hear about it anymore.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Notes in closing:<strong>__ I wanted to get the Makenzies out of Cardiff for this chapter, and back on the road with the Doctor and Jack – but I realized I'd be here for another 15 pages at this rate, and I didn't want anyone to think I was abandoning this story after the massive file dump for the first chapter. The next section already has a large chunk of it written, so wish me luck!_


	3. It's Not a Party 'Til the Cops Show Up

**Author's note:** _this is a work of derivative fiction, used under the fair use clause of the creative commons. No copyright infringement is intended. IMPORTANT NOTE: I failed to mention that the translations that appeared in the last chapter were arrived at via Google Translate; I apologize for any errors. The song that Tamara references in this story is "The Litter and the Leaves," by a fantastic group called Enter the Haggis – I strongly recommend them to anyone who likes modern Celtic music._

_There is no sex in this chapter – but there is some smoochies between canon-complaint implied relationships. Additional notes will be at the end._

* * *

><p>Ivan and Jack were just carrying up the last two freshly dosed civilians to the make-shift triage center established in the parking garage when Martha Jones arrived with the cavalry consisting of a full UNIT compliment of medics and evacuation trucks. Carefully placing his burden down with the rest, Jack turned his usual megawatt smile onto the lovely young woman that came striding across the concrete towards him with an answering smile. She was opening her arms for a hug when her path was intercepted by a bouncing vision in brown pinstripes.<p>

"Martha Jones! Look at you!" The Doctor exclaimed, throwing his arms around her. Martha laughed as she returned the hug, but whether it was at the Doctor's enthusiastic greeting or the disgruntled expression on Jack's face was anyone's guess.

"Doctor! Always happy to see you – but just once, it'd be nice if you just rang me up for tea or something instead of yet another crisis. Jack! You're certainly looking well!" she transferred herself to Jack's waiting embrace, and he swept her off her feet in the bear hug embrace he'd been denied earlier.

"And you are as sexy as always," he purred. Martha simply laughed, and swatted him on the shoulder.

"Settle down, you!" she scolded. "What's the situation?"

Jack beckoned Owen over towards them; the Torchwood medic pushed himself up from where he'd been checking the vitals on some of the first patients to have received the antidote the Doctor had created, and jogged lightly over to the trio.

"Dr. Jones, a pleasure as always," he greeted the newly arrived former-companion. "Have you finally decided to give up the struggle and succumb to my inherent sexiness?"

"Owen, as delightful as always, I see," Martha sighed. "What are we looking at?"

With a nonchalant shrug, Owen pulled a printout from is lab coat pocket and offered it to the other doctor. "This is the devil's brew your friend there had us administer. Don't know if your files have any more information on Varga plants than ours do, but apparently that's what landed here and caused all this." Owen turned to gesture back over the prone forms laid out on blankets on the concrete, even as the UNIT medical teams were moving in to start transferring people to stretchers for transport to the waiting vehicles.

"No serious physical injuries," Owen continued, walking back towards the soldiers with Martha trailing along behind. "Puncture wounds, obviously, from the Varga attacks – some minor contusions, a few mild concussions, but nothing that was overly worrying. The first patients we dosed with the alien nutter's concoction are already showing signs of improvement from their earlier conditions."

"Nutter!" the Doctor exclaimed in protest, looking outraged. Owen sailed blithely on, completely ignoring the interruption.

"Without knowing any medical histories, I haven't given anyone any medications beyond a bog-standard sedative t' keep 'em down while they were in the Hub. They should be shaking that off soon enough. Anything worse that turns up when you give 'em a more thorough scan, you can take it up with Gargantua and his Bride over there." Owen jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the far side of the garage, where Ivan and Tamara were standing with Ianto and Tosh. The four of them were finally working their way through the lunch that Ianto had ordered for them; Owen had snatched mouthfuls of food every few minutes as he hurried back and forth between injured civilians. Gwen was nowhere in sight – Owen had to assume she'd returned to the Hub. _Somebody_ needed to be keeping an eye out for Rift activity.

Curious, Martha turned towards where Owen had indicated, and gave a slight start of surprise. "That is one big man," she muttered quietly.

Owen smothered a laugh. "Swings a mean sword, as well," he commented. "I suppose for an encore he'll be terrorizing a small village, demanding the sacrifice of a maiden or something."

Martha swallowed a giggle, and looked away from the plus-size pair. "I think that's dragons, actually," she whispered back. "What are they doing here?"

Owen shrugged in response. "Old friend of Jack's, apparently – from America. I knew they grew them bigger over there, but really…"

Martha did start giggling at that.

* * *

><p>The UNIT medics moved with rapid efficiency to double-check the vitals of all those who had been injured during the Varga attack and its aftermath, and before too much longer everyone had been transported away. Martha was leaving with the last car of personnel, to join them at a UNIT hospital later. She paused before leaving to say her goodbyes to the Torchwood folks, and greet the new visitors.<p>

As she was shaking hands with Tamara, the tall woman leaned forward conspiratorially, cutting her gaze left and right as though checking to make sure they wouldn't be overheard, but when she spoke it was in a tone that carried easily to the others standing by. "Just for the record," she said, fighting to suppress a grin, "my man likes his women with a little more… substance than your average maiden. He usually accepts beer as his tribute from any terrorized villages, instead."

Martha could feel heat rise to her face, and only hoped her natural coloring would hide the blush of her embarrassment. She began to stutter out an apology when Tamara waved it away with a smirk and a flippant toss of her hand.

"Ivan's got great hearing – and Bantam Boy's voice carries really well," she explained. "No offense taken."

"Still, I am so sorry," Martha replied, glaring at Owen.

For his part, Owen simply shrugged, completely unashamed and unrepentant. "Everybody needs a hobby," he replied coolly. "Mine just happens to be casting aspersions. Far be it from me to judge his. However, I do reserve all right to comment as I see fit."

Jack laughed. "I know the Doctor wants to get going soon, but I think we've got time for a drink before we take off. Martha, why don't you join us? I've signaled Gwen, she'll be up in a few moments, and the Rift predictor seems to think we'll have a quiet evening tonight."

Martha relaxed somewhat, and offered a genuine smile even as she shook her head. "'Fraid not, Jack. Someone needs to take care of all the processing and identification so we can start contacting people's families. I'm sure there are more than a few missing persons reports filed already. I really need to get back – but you give me a call when you're back from wherever you're going, yeah? I'll keep you posted on how things go with the injured."

Jack drew the petite woman into another embrace. "You do that, Martha Jones. Next time, I won't take no for an answer."

Martha walked towards the vehicle waiting for her, tossing off a wave to Gwen as the Welsh woman jogged up to join the group. Jack turned back to survey them all, including the Doctor, who was standing with Tamara and Ivan. "You boys and girls ready to go grab a nightcap before we sail off into time?" he asked.

"The Hub is locked up for the night, Sir," Ianto replied. "I think I could spare the time for a pint or two."

"You're buying, Harkness," Owen stated, chin rising in challenge. "I did, after all, save the day."

"Really? I thought that was Mr. Makenzie," Ianto retorted in a mild tone. Owen sniffed disdainfully.

"I suppose he did help some," he retorted.

"Okay, kids, settle down or I'm turning this parking garage around and going straight back home," Jack quipped. With an expansive gesture, he swept his arm towards the exit of the garage. "Ladies? Gentlemen? Owen? If you'll head this way, there's a lovely place within walking distance, I believe."

With a few more mutters and grumbles, and at least one rude hand gesture, the eight individuals began to head towards the nearest pub. Ivan and Tamara fell to the back of the group, an unconscious action on their parts.

* * *

><p>The pub Jack led them all to, normally a moderately busy but nonetheless quiet place, was crowded to capacity and filled with a rowdy, rambunctious crowd.<p>

Jack hesitated on the threshold before leading his group into the fray. "Ugh," Jack moaned. "Soccer fans. I forgot there was a big game today. Think we should find another place?"

Ianto rolled his eyes and leaned in closer to Jack, looking at the older man through lowered brows. "You _know_ every bar in Cardiff will be like this – and I don't know of any others in walking distance that we haven't been kicked out of, sir," Ianto informed him in a dry voice.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Yeah, there is that."

Tamara clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. "It's okay, Dimples," she said, still chuckling. "Ivan, make a hole. Surely someone will be kind enough to give up a table for a couple of foreign visitors."

Before Jack could protest, Ivan had uttered a sub-vocal growl and stepped purposefully into the crowd. Like magic, an open isle appeared before the big man, with nary a nudge or spilled drink on his part – although more than one pair of wide, drunken eyes followed his near silent glide through the crowd. The Torchwood Team-Plus-Two fell into step in Ivan's wake. Owen smirked at Tamara.

"Need t' have you two along at Christmas, yeah?" he quipped. "Certainly make shopping easier.

Tamara laughed. "I dunno, Bantam Boy. Little old ladies going for those holiday bargains can be downright terrifying."

Ivan had moved towards a large table at the back of the bar, furthest away from the sets showing the match in progress – he was willing to risk a lot, but he wasn't stupid enough to try to get premium viewing spots away from a fan. He loomed silently over the crowded table, not speaking, not smiling – just staring – and after a second the six men at the table decided they all suddenly needed refills.

As the eight people clustered around the table, Ivan and Tamara settling against the wall to be best out of the way, Gwen smiled brightly at the group. "I'll just get the first round, shall I?" she announced chirpily. Before anyone could speak, she bounced off towards the bar. Jack watched her go with a small wrinkle of thought creasing his forehead.

"Something wrong?" the Doctor asked, leaning in close. Even whispering, the Time Lord's voice managed to carry cleanly through the background hullabaloo.

Jack gave a slight shake of his head. "Not sure. She just seems… too cheerful, considering how pissed she was earlier."

The Doctor snorted. "Gwen's the forgiving sort," he said. "She's probably forgotten it already."

Jack's eyebrows shot towards his hairline, and he stared at the Doctor. "Are you sure we're talking about the same woman?"

Before the Doctor could reply, Gwen was back, carrying an appropriated serving tray with a glass of water for Jack, five pint glasses and two steins of golden ale. "Here we go!" she all but chirped. "Ivan, Tamara – I thought you might like some… more substantial glasses than one of our puny pints," she explained as she transferred the two steins to places in front of the couple.

Tamara smirked and cocked one eyebrow at the dark-haired woman. She heard the words – but understood the unspoken implication. Big people must drink big drinks, right? "You are too kind, Ms. Cooper. Bless your heart," was all she said.

Beside her, she heard Ivan's almost silent snort. Her husband made no move for his glass as Tamara hefted her frothy stein. The others were already drinking – well, everyone but the Doctor – as Tamara raised her mug for her first scent of real beer. She paused before she sipped, and took a deeper sniff. Her brows drew together in confusion and she frowned.

"Ivan?" she said quietly, holding the mug out towards her husband. "Does that smell right to you? I think it smells funny."

Ivan wrapped one massive hand completely around the mug and brought it up to his nose, giving a deep sniff. Gwen was watching the pair wide-eyed and still. Frowning now himself, Ivan darted out the tip of his tongue and barely touched the surface of the alcohol. As he considered the taste, his face darkened and settled into a deep scowl.

The glass connected with the table top with a resounding 'bang' that caused ale to splash everywhere. "What did you put in my wife's drink?" he growled, narrowed gaze focused intently on Gwen, who began to sputter.

"N-nothing!" she protested, raising her hands to emphasize her innocence. "Nothing! Maybe you just aren't used–"

The glass shattered when Ivan closed his fist, shards of glass tinkling onto the table top as ale geysered everywhere. "Do not, for one instant, make the mistake of thinking I am stupid, woman," he all but snarled, each word clearly and precisely enunciated, a far cry from his normal mumbling, grumbling tones. Ivan pushed himself to his feet, and seemed to tower even more than usual over the seated group. Everyone at the table – and the surrounding tables – had frozen at the sound of barely leashed fury in the giant's voice, rabbits cowering before the angry bear.

"You tried to poison my wife!" Ivan bellowed – and the entire bar froze into silence, the sounds of the game on TV an eerie counterpoint to the silence. "I have every right to twist your head off."

The people at and around the Torchwood table could feel their hairs trying to stand on end with the effect of the nearly sub-audible growl carried in Ivan's words. As the big man stared down at the pale-faced and terrified woman across from him, Tamara picked up the stein that should have gone to Ivan, and sniffed it.

"Yours smells the same as mine," she growled, her voice almost as intimidating as Ivan's. The silence of the group was broken by the small 'plip-plap' sound of the bright red drops that slipped between Ivan's clenched fingers to mix with the spilled amber fluid on the table. Jack reached over and pulled the glass from Tamara's hand, and gave the ale a small taste.

His face immediately flushed with suppressed rage. "I should make you drink this, Cooper," he told her, voice flat with anger. "With as much Retcon as you put in here – _against_ my direct orders, I might add – you'd only lose the last decade or so."

"B-b-but Jack!" Gwen protested feebly. "I-I-I was only f-following procedure! Surely–"

"My WIFE!" Ivan roared, half lunging across the table at the seated woman, bringing his bleeding fist crashing down on the table. The echoing crash of impact made everyone but Ivan, Tamara and Jack flinch. Ivan raised his clenched fist at Gwen – it was easily as big as her entire head. "You tried to drug my wife!"

Surprisingly enough, it was Owen who leapt to his feet in an effort to calm things down. "Now, hold on!" he shouted. "I'm a damn good doctor, but even I can't reattach a severed head. Everybody calm the fuck down, and nobody do anything!" He flung his arms wide in an expansive gesture, as though he were physically pushing the angry giant away from the small woman across from him.

Unfortunately, his gesture was a little too broad. A curious bystander, too drunk to be fully aware of the potential danger, had stepped up behind Owen for a better view of the pending excitement. On his back-swing, Owen's ill-considered gesture slapped the nearly full pint out of the stranger's hand and doused him completely.

"Oi!" he roared.

Owen looked back over his shoulder at the mess, and snorted derisively. "Teach you t' mind your business," he snarked.

The drunk's face darkened, and he grabbed at Owen's shoulder, spinning him around. "Y' owe me a pint, little man!" he shouted.

Tamara stood to her full, impressive height, and glared at the belligerent stranger over Owen's head. "You best step off, boy," she said in a low, guttural tone, her Southern accent thickening. "Hands off the Bantam rooster, he's ours."

Owen glared over his shoulder at her. "Piss off, Barbarella," he snapped. "I can handle myself in a bar brawl. Not the first time, y'know."

"With your charming personality and sparkling wit? Say it ain't so," Tamara mocked in return. Owen glowered, and turned his attention back to the man currently clutching at his shirt. With a quick gesture, he'd slapped the man's hand away, and bucked up against him, chest to chest. The man had a couple inches and more than a few pounds on Owen, but Owen felt confident in his ability to fight. After all, there was no way this plain vanilla human could be remotely as tough as a Weevil.

"Now you need to step off and go sit down," Owen told the stranger in a low, steady voice. "I'm just here for a few drinks, then we'll be off and you can brag to all your little friends back home about how you ran us off, and we won't have to reach the point where you have to tell your friends that a man half your size kicked your ass."

The man in question didn't speak, but he was suddenly flanked by two more men, both beefy, muscular examples of the breed. Owen looked back over his shoulder at Tamara, who had refused to sit back down.

"Remember what I said about how I had this?" he said. "Yeah, may need to rethink that offer of assistance."

Tamara's smile widened, her eyes taking on a slightly crazed gleam. "Awww, yeah," she all but crowed. "This is gonna be fun." She looked down at Jack and the Doctor, who almost quailed away from the light of mayhem that lit up her expression.

"Now would be a good time to escort the ladies out of here, Dimples," she said, her voice roughening with the rise in adrenalin. Again, Jack had the eerie feeling that she seemed slightly bigger than she had a moment before. "If Ivan can get his anger out doing this, he might no longer feel the need to break your little field agent over there."

"Tamara, don't – " Jack started to protest, but Tamara cut him off by the most expedient method of grabbing his upper arm and bodily lifting him from his chair, pushing him towards the door.

"Go! Now!" she snapped. This time, Jack didn't hesitate, motioning for Gwen and Tosh to follow him, with the Doctor bringing up the rear. Ianto hesitated, hanging back to see what would happen next.

It was the last thing he could have predicted. Instead of going around the table to stand with Owen, Tamara leaned across her husband's immobile form and grabbed the edge of the table, then casually flipped it to the side. Glasses went crashing everywhere, chairs skidding and crashing out of the way as she shoved up to stand on Owen's left. Ivan simply turned in place, and stood on Owen's right, glaring at the three men facing down the compact Torchwood medic.

"So we gonna do this, or what?" Tamara drawled, flicking her gaze from head to toe of the man standing in front of her.

His expression turned to one of unease as he looked back. "I don't know, mate," he mumbled to his friend who had started everything. "I don't usually hit no girls. 'Specially not old ones."

Ivan took a half-step back, and his expression finally shifted away from its previous rage and towards mild fear. "Oh, you really shouldn'a said that," he mumbled.

Tamara's eyes widened, then narrowed, and she stood even straighter, pulling her shoulders back and clenching her fists. "Well then, I guess I'll make the decision easy for you," she snapped.

Then she punched him right in the mouth. The young man staggered back, arms flailing to try and catch his balance, but with the bar as crowded as it was he tripped and fell back into a group of bystanders hovering near the bar.

A cry of "oi!" rang out – and that was all it took. Like a match set to flash paper, what started out as a simple scuffle between two blokes erupted into a bar-wide fight bordering on riot. Owen hammered a quick shot into the first drunk's jaw, the followed up with a hard, sharp slam into his solar plexus, and the man in question dropped like a discarded rag doll. Owen stepped on his prone body to get a little better height advantage to survey the fight currently in progress.

Tamara was laughing merrily as she traded punches with anyone who took a swing at her. Calming his worst fears, Owen noticed that Ivan wasn't actually punching people – which would surely have resulted in more than one death at the impact from those massive hands – he was shoving people three and four feet away from him, or picking them up bodily and tossing them back into the surrounding crowd. Owen wobbled briefly as his human stepstool tried to stir, but he resolved that problem quickly with a swift kick to the man's head. His stepstool collapsed back into immobility, and Owen continued his survey from the relative calm at the eye of this particular storm. He spotted Ianto making his way steadily towards the exit, gracefully dodging his way around or through combatants without engaging. When someone did move as though to take a swing at the polished office manager, Ianto didn't even break stride as he pulled his Taser from his coat pocket and dropped the man in his tracks; he continued walking out the door and joined Jack and the Doctor where they stood just on the street with Gwen and Tosh.

"Glad to see you made it out of there in one piece, Yan," Jack told the younger man as he walked out, straightening his tie, Taser nowhere in sight.

"Of course, sir. Bar brawls aren't really my cup of tea, so to speak," Ianto replied calmly, turning to survey the activity in the pub.

"Think we're going to get them out of there anytime soon?" Jack asked.

The look that Ianto gave him spoke volumes. "It's a soccer brawl in a pub. What do you think?" he replied.

Jack heaved a gusty sigh. "That's what I thought you'd say. Hopefully, we can keep this contained to just one pub, this time."

"Jack!" Gwen interrupted, pushing forward to clutch at the Captain's arm. "You have to do something to stop this!" she insisted.

Jack glared at her, jerking his arm out of her grasp. "You mean like you did to start it?" he snapped.

Gwen gasped. "Jack! I didn't!"

Jack planted his fists on his hips and loomed over the shorter woman. "Oh, didn't you? Who was it who thought it would be a good idea to exercise her own initiative against orders, and break into the Retcon supply?" he demanded.

The Doctor had moved up to flank Gwen, and his normally expressive features had settled into an expression of cold disappointment. "Gwen Cooper, I had thought better of you," he said sadly.

"What you did was not only unethical, it was unfair," he chided the woman gently. "You know Jack had told you that Ivan was an old friend of his, yet you chose to ignore his wishes. Not only have you done a disservice to Ivan and Tamara, who have already done far more than you will ever know to earn my trust, you've also broken trust with Jack."

Gwen seemed to shrink at the Doctor's sad voice and quiet words more than she ever had at Jack's bellows and glares. "I didn't think…"

"No, Cooper, the problem is you did think – you thought you knew better than anyone else," Jack interrupted. "Now I'm left with this mess to clean up, not to mention what to do with you."

"What do you mean, do with me?" Gwen protested, straightening once more in indignation.

"Does the phrase 'gross insubordination' mean anything to you, Cooper?" Jack asked sarcastically. "How about 'disobeying a direct order' or 'removing a controlled substance without authorization'? Any of that getting through?"

"Those are all retconing offenses, sir," Ianto pointed out quietly. Gwen paled even further.

"Jack, you can't…" she choked out.

"I most certainly can," Jack corrected her. Behind him, there was the loud crash of a body falling through a table, and Jack flinched. "The question you should be asking is, will I." He heaved a deep sigh. His gaze shifted to the street below his feet as he considered what to do next.

Finally, with another deep breath, he straightened and looked steadily at the pale, shaking woman who was only just now realizing how thoroughly she'd messed up. "Gwen Cooper, you are hereby effectively relieved of duty until further notice. Starting immediately, you are on two weeks unpaid suspension. After that, you'll be on Hub duties – whatever duties Ianto can find for you – until I return. Once I get back, I'll make a final judgment on what else I intend to do until I believe you've learned your lesson."

"But Jack!" Gwen protested, tears beginning to fill her eyes at the realization that he was quite serious.

"Your other option is Retcon. Your choice," Jack stated firmly, stopping any further protests.

Gwen gasped, looking to Ianto and Tosh only to realize she wasn't going to get any support from either one. Biting her lower lip between her teeth, she finally lowered her gaze and nodded her acceptance.

Jack relaxed marginally. "Go home, Gwen," he said, the most gently he'd spoken to her since everything had started. "I'll talk to you when I get back, after I've had a chance to cool off."

With another nod, but not another word, Gwen turned and all but fled away from the four that were standing on the sidewalk. Almost as one, they turned back to peer through the windows of the pub at the fight that was still going strong.

It was complete, unrestrained chaos. Jack could see Ivan head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd, standing in the middle of the room, Tamara a good head above everyone else as well, and standing back to back with her husband. There was no sign of the much shorter Owen, lost in the crowd.

Tamara was taking her share of punches from different opponents who stepped up to take their chances, but she was delivering sledge-hammer like blows in return for their troubles. Ivan had resorted to the tactic of grabbing the next closest antagonist by his collar and belt and using him to sweep a circle clear of bodies around himself before letting the unfortunate individual in his grasp go flying off into the crowd. Little by little, the number of those left able to continue the fight was dwindling, until finally Jack could get a clear view of the heart of the chaos – which also revealed his missing medic. The trio was standing back-to-back-to-back, facing off against all comers. Even as he watched, another soccer fan made an unwise choice to approach the smaller – and presumably easier target – of one Dr. Owen Harper. The little medic, panting heavily from exertion and just a little wild-eyed, brought up his fists to block a punch or throw one of his own, but when the drunk took a half-step closer and pulled back to deliver a blow, Owen didn't hesitate to draw back and mule-kick the unwitting man in a most tender area. Jack couldn't help but wince in sympathy as the man dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

The sound of the tall man crumpling to the floor with a pained groan seemed to be some sort of signal for the others still standing; gradually, they backed away from the trio standing in the middle of the bar and relaxed from their tense and ready stances. Tamara was the first to drop her hands and straighten, a manic grin spread across her face. After a few seconds, she started to laugh – and then to Jack's complete and utter surprise, she began to sing.

_We'll sing our gutter anthem 'til the day we die!_

_With a smile on our face and a bottle in our hand,_

_You can find me in the gutter in the morning!_

With that short burst of song, she started laughing again, and unceremoniously elbowed her husband in the ribs, breaking his concentration and making him stand down as well. Owen spun in place to stare at the tall woman in shock and confusion.

"I think I know that song," he finally stated, as though his brain was refusing to conjure up anything more relevant to say.

Still grinning, Tamara threw one arm around Owen's shoulders, and began steering him towards the bar. "Good fight, Bantam Boy! I knew you were a feisty one!"

Owen heaved a mighty sigh. "I really wish you'd quit calling me that," he grumbled, slumping tiredly against the bar itself. Ivan shambled over to stand beside him, and rapped his knuckles loudly on the glossy bar surface.

Timidly, the bartender poked his head up above the level of the bar. "Please don't hit me," he whimpered.

Ivan snorted. "Fight's over. Drink now." He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket – not the wallet he carried in his hip pocket, Jack noted, as he, Ianto, the Doctor and Tosh eased back into the pub. The other patrons still standing blinked and stared at each other in confusion.

The bartender finally stood to his full height, and glared at Ivan. "You trash my place, and _now_ you expect me to serve you?" he demanded.

Ivan shook his shaggy head. "Nope. Expect to pay for the damages, and _then_ I expect you to serve us. You the owner?"

"Y-yes…" the bartender stammered uncertainly.

Ivan gave one sharp nod and folded his long travel wallet open. Before the bartender's bulging eyes, he began pulling out crisp, green hundred dollar bills. "Sorry it's all in American," Ivan grumbled. "Didn't have time t' get any changed. Hope this will work."

"I… I think I can handle getting it changed over," the bartender whispered as the green bills kept appearing. Jack stopped counting after the tenth one appeared, and Ivan was still producing bills.

"While he's counting, y' might want to get a bottle of single malt, sweetie," Tamara said, distracting the bartender. Owen simply slumped silently beside her, still panting with exertion. With a slight start, the bartender snapped into action, producing an unopened bottle of golden-amber liquid, and three glasses.

"More glasses," Ivan grunted, and the bartender began setting up more. Ivan finished counting out a thick stack of green and slid it over to the bartender, then picked up the bottle and cracked the seal and began filling glasses.

"Well?" Ivan demanded sharply, glaring left and right. "Y'all just gonna stand there, or what?" he growled. As each glass was filled, he slid it down the bar, the first one going to his wife and the second one to Owen. One by one, the people who'd been trying to beat each other senseless just seconds earlier began making their way cautiously over to the bar, and passing filled glasses of good scotch down the row until everyone had a shot. Ivan took the last glass, and raised it high.

"To new friends!" he exclaimed loudly.

"New friends!" Tamara seconded, toasting back to him, then throwing back her shot. With various mutterings, the others followed suit.

Jack stood back and watched, shaking his head with a wry grin on his face, before he too tossed back the shot that had been handed to him. "Old friends," he said softly. Not so softly that the Doctor didn't hear him, and offer a small smile in return.

Tamara reached for the greatly depleted bottle and refilled her glass. "Well, that was fun," she said. She had a rosy glow of recent activity painting her cheeks, and her hair was ruffled, but she looked amazingly good for someone who'd just walked out of a major brawl. "There's a reason we don't go out more often than we do."

"Spoilsport," Ivan muttered into his glass.

"Tamara, Ivan, I want to apologize for Gwen's behavior," Jack began, stepping closer as the others at the bar began to disperse, some of them staggering out of the pub, others seeing to those individuals who hadn't gotten up from the floor yet. With a quick, appraising glance, the Doctor looked over everyone in sight and was pleased to note that there were no serious injuries visible – nothing more severe than a few split lips, black eyes and bloodied noses. No apparent broken bones.

"Y' got nothin' t' apologize for, Sarge," Ivan growled. "But I suggest y' keep Little Judas away from me f'r a good bit."

Jack heaved a great sigh, moving to slump back against the bar, bracing his elbows on the surface. Tosh moved over to timidly check on Owen, who nodded silently and offered her a fresh shot from the bottle he'd snatched from Tamara.

"I just don't know what got into her head," Jack sighed, thinking about Gwen's actions. He was still furious, but it wasn't the blind unthinking rage of earlier. Ianto moved over beside him and placed a gentle hand on his forearm.

"Oh, come off it, Jack. Don't be a complete twonk," Owen snapped. "You know damn good and well why she's acting like that. Or at least you would if you had half a brain."

Jack glared at his medic. "No, Owen – I really don't know why she does what she does," Jack shot back.

Owen heaved a great sigh, and turned to face his employer, pressing the cool glass in his hand against his temple. "She's fucking jealous, you great wanker," he retorted.

Jack truly, honestly looked confused. "Jealous? About what?"

Owen covered his eyes with his free hand. "You! You great daft git! She has Rhys, but she wants you, you knob! You made her jump through hoops before you'd even tell her about Torchwood – let alone give her free reign in the Hub! Now you show up after being gone for 48 hours, and you turn two complete strangers loose in the office, without any of the usual warnings or precautions."

Tamara snorted. "That sounds nice," she groused. "Like you expect me to pee on the carpets or something." Owen shrugged.

"No offense," he drawled. "Anyway, you stupendously blind idiot, like I was saying; she's stinking, viciously, rabidly jealous of whatever is new and shiny that takes your attention away from the Hub in general, and her specifically. And you too bloody oblivious to notice." Owen's voice was practically dripping with disgust.

Jack scrubbed at his face tiredly. "Great," he moaned. "Just what I need – and what I have no idea how to deal with."

Ianto patted his arm solicitously. "I suggest you deal with the jealousy the way you have been so far, sir. Completely ignore it. Gwen's a big girl; she'll get over it. However, that doesn't excuse her behavior tonight. _That_, you will most certainly have to deal with."

"I know," Jack grumped. "But I don't want to think about it tonight. I'll deal with it when I get back, after I've cooled off. If you get a big enough alert that you need the extra man power, call her in – otherwise, keep her out of the hub for the full two weeks. When that's up, if I'm not back yet, give her every dirty, crappy, disgusting job you can think of to keep her busy."

Owen perked up at that. "Hey! I've been saying the autopsy drawers needed scrubbing out! Some of them have gotten downright disgusting."

Ianto leveled a cool gaze at the CMO of Torchwood 3. "I believe you meant to say, the entire autopsy area is about a day away from being declared a biohazard and quarantined," he stated.

Owen sniffed dismissively. "I say dirty, you say dangerous. Tomato, tomahto."

"Let her sit and stew for a bit, Dimples," Tamara interjected. "At the end of the day, neither Ivan nor I was actually hurt, and we had a good time after all. No harm done." She looked over her shoulder at the bartender, who still seemed a bit dazed. "You're square, right?" she asked him.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm good, lady," he finally answered, still clutching the thick stack of bills. "Even with the exchange rate, I'm still good."

Tamara gave the bar a solid thump with her open palm. "There! See? No harm done and we're all good. Pinstripes, you about ready to blow this joint?"

The Doctor jerked his attention back to the Torchwood group and away from watching how the bar patrons were helping each other up, staunching bloody noses and passing out beers – not necessarily the proscribed treatment, but it seemed to be putting all those who remained in the pub in more cheerful spirits. As far as he could tell, his initial assessment was correct, and no one had been seriously injured, he was very pleased to see. He twitched questioning eyebrows at Tamara before fully registering her question. His eyes lit up with glee and his face split into an enormous smile. "Oh! Of course I'm ready to go! I'm always ready to go, and now the TARDIS has finished topping off, she's ready for anything! Are you and Ivan ready to go on your adventure?"

"You mean there's more to see after all of this?" Tamara asked, gesturing vaguely around the bar.

The Doctor answered as though the question had been serious. "Oh, there is so much more to see and do out there, Tamara Makenzie! And it is going to be such a truly exciting time doing it! Jack, are you coming along?"

"I'd better, before I commit murder," he grumbled. Then he smiled, his good humor and twinkle returning instantly. "I wouldn't miss this for the world. I can't wait to see what these two get up to out there."

"Right, then! All aboard and all that! Time and tide wait for no man – or woman – well, I suppose they do sort of wait for me, I am a Time Lord, so I could always just hop backwards of forwards to when the tides would be at optimum advantage for whatever it was I was going to do, but that would truly be an irresponsible use of technology…" The Doctor, with his usual joie de vivre, went bouncing out the pub doors, trusting that the others were following. They could hear his babble continuing, fading into the distance as he kept rattling on.

With a last salute to the bartender and the other pub patrons who watched them leave, Ivan, Tamara, Jack, Owen and Tosh made their own way after the Doctor – although they ambled at a much more leisurely pace. Jack moved up to walk apace with Ivan, and Ianto moved to stride with him. Tosh and Owen brought up the rear, the tech specialist surreptitiously making sure the slightly staggering medical officer wasn't going to fall down.

"So…" Jack began, falsely casual. "How did you manage to come by so much cash?" he asked. "You two strike oil, or own a gold mine back home or something you failed to mention?"

Ivan snorted. "Military, Sarge," he grunted. When the corresponding light bulb failed to ignite, he elaborated. "Service veteran, remember? Mustered out, honorable discharge. Collect my service pension every month like clockwork."

"Actually, he collects two," Tamara volunteered. "He gets one from Canada, because he served with them first, then got discharged when America joined the war so he could sign up with them. Heck, we paid off the mortgage on the property decades ago – and what the hell else do we have to spend money on back home? Needless to say, that little jaunt back there won't put a serious dent in the bank account, trust me."

"So, just out of curiosity, exactly how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Ianto questioned.

Ivan shrugged. "No idea. Stopped counting somewhere around 100. Don't seem t' matter much beyond that point."

"You look pretty good for a man who's marked his first century," Owen quipped. He looked at Tamara with a slight sneer. "Now I suppose you're gonna tell me you're 60 or something."

She smirked in return. "Try 80 or something, kid," she retorted.

"No way," he protested. "There is no way a woman older than my grandmother can fling a table across a room and punch like Lennox Lewis."

Tamara gave him an incredulous look. "You work in a cave, your boss is from outer space, you have a pet pteranodon nesting in your attic and a monster in a jumpsuit in your basement. And you find it difficult to believe I'm an octogenarian?"

Owen thrust his chin upwards and sniffed haughtily. "Well, when you put it that way…"

* * *

><p>Very shortly, the party limped, staggered and strolled their way back to the Plass. Tamara and Ivan paused to admire the beautiful sight of the waterfall lit up with the floodlights, and how the starry sky above framed the towering structure. It was definitely a sight to behold, but the old hands from the area zeroed in on the incongruous blue box parked at the base of the fountain, one door cracked open slightly. After a few moments of simply enjoying their first view of Cardiff at night, Ivan and Tamara finally joined the four remaining Torchwood folks.<p>

Jack had his arms around Ianto's waist, while the younger man had his hands braced on Jack's shoulders. "Are you absolutely sure you won't come along?" Jack asked again.

Ianto offered a sweet smile, and pressed his forehead to Jack's, eyes closed. "No, Jack. I can't. Someone has to keep an eye on things around here while you're gone, and make sure Gwen sticks to the stipulations of your punishment. Owen's too busy with the medical files to take care of the rest of the paperwork that stacks up around here. And besides," his smile broadened before he continued, and he leaned away from Jack, but not out of his embrace. "God help any of them that touched my coffee maker while I was away."

Jack threw his head back and laughed loudly. "I suppose that's true enough," he said. "My phone will stay in the TARDIS when we're out and about – can't risk having it fall out of my pocket accidentally when we're travelling in the past – but you know you can call me at any time, if something comes up. You're sure you're going to be okay with just the three of you for a couple of weeks?"

"Give it a rest, Jack," Owen huffed. He was starting to show more of the effects of both the fight and the alcohol, listing alarmingly to the side even as Tosh hovered close by to catch him if he fell. "Tea boy will be cracking the whip over all of us before your chair is cold. If you're going, then I suggest you quit wittering like a girl and just leave."

Tamara dropped a heavy arm around the medic's slender shoulders, almost causing him to crumple to his knees from the sudden weight. Her hand wrapped securely around his upper arm was the only think that kept him from dropping like a stone. "So tell me, Bantam Boy – exactly how does a girl witter?" she asked, smirking down at him.

Owen snorted. "I'm sure you wouldn't know," he stated. "You're a great lady, not a little girl, and have no experience what so ever with wittering and other such girly carryings-on."

Ivan snorted. "Nice save," he rumbled. He leaned down and kissed his wife on the temple as he walked past her towards the open door of the TARDIS. "Goin' t' bed now," he muttered, and slipped silently into the TARDIS interior.

"That sounds like a good idea to me, too," Tamara agreed. She gave Owen's slender form a solid squeeze, then grinned over at Tosh. "Bantam Boy, I suggest you let the pretty lady here take you home and make sure you don't pass out along the way. Miss Tosh, it has been a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully the next time we swing through here it will be… a little less exciting."

Tosh smiled back at the tall woman, and moved up to Owen's other side, pulling his arm over her shoulder and slipping her arm around his waist. "I'll take good care of him," she said.

Owen snorted, but didn't turn down the assistance as Tamara removed her arm and Tosh took more of his weight. "I'm likely to be mother hened to within an inch of my life now," he complained.

"Hush, you," Tosh gently chided.

"Doctor Owen Harper, you are one helluva Bantam rooster," Tamara laughed. "You behave for Pretty Lady, here, or I will come back here and turn you over my knee."

"Ooo, Gramma – I am just aquiver with fear," Owen snarked. He lurched forward, and Tosh began leading him away. "Please, for the love of all that is holy, don't let your husband change history too badly. I don't want to wake up tomorrow to find out that the traditional date night has suddenly become a punch-up with soccer hooligans followed by downing a few pints, yeah?" he called back over his shoulder as the pair wandered away.

Tamara laughed once more before turning back to Jack and Ianto. "Well, Babycakes, you take care of yourself until we get Mr. Dimples here back for you," she told the young man. "I'll make sure he behaves himself as much as possible."

Ianto smiled, and blushed slightly. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Makenzie – and your husband."

"Oh, please, Babycakes – call me Tamara. You be good, now, y' hear?" And with that, she strode into the TARDIS herself, leaving the pair alone.

Ianto looked up into his captain's eyes. "I know you can't die, Sir, but please promise me you'll at least try to be safe?"

Jack chuckled, pulling the young man's body close against his own. "Now where would be the fun in that?" he growled. "I'll be back before you know it, Ianto. Keep an eye on things – oh, and don't let that little green thing loose in the hub. Don't want it eating the rift manipulator."

"Shoopuf," Ianto stated.

Jack blinked in confusion. "Uh… Gesundheit?" he questioned.

Ianto chuckled. "No, Sir – that's the name I've given the Treewee. Shoopuf." He shrugged. "It just seemed appropriate, somehow."

Jack smiled. "Fair enough. Use the Torchwood card, buy whatever you need to take care of it. I'll bring you back something pretty." With that, he closed the little distance between them and kissed Ianto firmly. Pulling back with a smile, he left the young Welshman standing breathless as he closed the TARDIS door firmly, and the mighty time engines ground into action and slowly faded from reality.

* * *

><p>Jack entered the TARDIS console room, the main door latching solidly closed behind him, to find the Doctor dancing madly around the console, preparing his magnificent ship to once more fling itself into the currents of the time stream. Tamara was sprawled in the captain's chairs, arms flung wide, while Ivan leaned casually against the wall watching the Doctor's actions with an enigmatic expression. Jack slipped out of his greatcoat and moved to drape in on the coat rack before joining the Doctor at the console. He stepped into his usual place, and began the now-familiar routine necessary to guide the mighty engines through their journey.<p>

"So have you decided on a destination?" Jack finally asked.

The Doctor smiled broadly. "I think I have!" he exclaimed. "If I'm remembering correctly – and if you'll remember, I am never wrong – I believe that Ivan had requested a visit to the distant past." He looked up quickly at the giant man watching all the activity going on.

"I believe you said something about measuring the date with only three digits?" the Doctor asked with a grin.

Ivan nodded. "That would be correct. Done plenty of reading, any history text I could find. Now I wanna see it. I want to get my hands dirty, eat the food, drink the ale. Talk t' people, hear about their day."

The Doctor looked as pleased as a peacock. "We can certainly do that, Ivan Makenzie. Who knows, maybe we'll even foul up the conjugation of a few verbs while we're at it!"

"So what did you have in mind, Pinstripes?" Tamara asked.

"I'm thinking 5th century," the Doctor finally said, He spun a wheel, worked what looked like for all intents and purposes a bicycle pump, flipped a few levers and cranked a few handles before finally throwing a massive switch, and the entire TARDIS lurched into motion. "Tour Europe – maybe have a glass of wine with the Emperor of Rome!" the Doctor continued.

"Does that sound like what you had in mind?" he spun in place to face the big man as he slowly approached the central console.

Ivan's beard twitched in what the Doctor had come to recognize as a definite smile. He extended one massive hand out to his wife, and when she curled her own hand around his palm, pulled her to her feet and into an embrace.

"That sounds pretty near perfect, Pinstripes," Ivan finally rumbled. "Let's do this."

"Molto buono!" the Doctor exclaimed, flinging his hands in the air as he spun on his heel. With an answering laugh, Jack began mirroring the Doctor's frenetic movements, and the TARDIS' engine tones changed, indicating she was in flight with a definite destination in mind.

"Next stop, Europe, 5th century!" the Doctor cried.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Closing Notes:<strong>_ _Thank you so much for making it this far with me. This adventure concludes the first book in what looks like to be a moderately lengthy series; what started out to be a short little piece to encourage myself to write has headed down the path of being an epic adventure! I realize that some people may wonder how Tamara and Ivan were able to smell and taste Retcon, since that particular drug is supposed to be odorless and tasteless. In case you haven't picked up on it yet, neither Ivan nor Tamara are quite fully human. Please have faith that this will one day be explained; I do have a plan! There will be further adventures for The Doctor, Jack, Ivan and Tamara, and hopefully any questions you've had about them will be answered. If something about the Makenzies just doesn't make any sense, please feel free to mention it in a comment. If your question is something that will ultimately be revealed in a future adventure, I'll let you know. If it isn't, I'll either answer as best I can or incorporate it in a future fic._

_Join me soon for their next adventure, currently with the working title of "Hail, Ceaser!"_


End file.
